And Then I Saw Her Face
by SkySong92
Summary: Even though he died in 1918, Edward Masen is still tied to this earth, and he has no idea why. This summer though, he begins to find out, with the help of the girl with the silent mind and the deceptively communicative eyes. Please R&R! :D
1. Chapter 1

**So, first off, If you've just found this, this is actually sort of my own personal version of _Midnight Sun_, as in, it's the EPOV of another story I've written, _I'll Make a Believer out of You. _So, I strongly encourage you to check out that one!! :D**

**Then, if you know me from _I'll Make a Believer out of You_, here it is, the EPOV!! I've decided that I actually probably WILL do all of the chapters (though some might be combined), partly because I just want to, and also I got a request for it from Klutzy-Side-of-Alice :D. So, here it is, the first chapter. I had lots of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy!**

**Oh, about the title. Originally, the title _I'll Make a Believer out of You_ had nothing to do with the Smash Mouth song _I'm a Believer_, but then I was thinking of title ideas for the sequels, and I found lyrics that fit all of them. So yes, the title *is* a reference to that song. :D And now, please read on, and I'd love it if you would review!! :D**

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The door opens again, slams. I don't know how many times it's been now, I stopped counting around fifteen. A voice calls up the stairs, and rapid-fire footsteps follow it down. Voices drift up at me "I know, mom,".

A new family moving in. I smile to myself. This house has been empty entirely too long. I'm a little bit strange in that way, that I actually enjoy it when our house is full. Most of us welcome the silence, the emptiness of a vacant house. My mother, for instance. She loved the silence, the emptiness, just me and her. That is, if she loved anything anymore. I guess, in general, most of us are a pretty sullen, brooding bunch. With mother, it's worrying. But not me.

Maybe it's that I don't know why I'm here. I have nothing in me that I've been holding onto. Sure, it can get boring, but that's why I like it when families move in. Mother says I'm immature, and really, she's probably right.

* * *

There's three of them in this family. A mother and a father, and a teenage girl. They're pleased to have this lovely house, and happy that their daughter seems to be adjusting so well. She's about my age, small and slender, with long brown hair and oddly deep brown eyes. That's all I know about her, though. Ever since the time of my death, I've had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me - human and spirit - was thinking. According to others I've talked to, some of us have these enhanced abilities, things that we were sensitive to when we were human, say, which is why I can read minds. But not this girl's. It's odd.

They were all moved in by late evening, and they were sitting in the kitchen, eating, while I hung out in my room. The one room the humans have never touched. Mother was somewhere above the roof. She's tied to this house, because of me, even if she won't admit it out loud. But it makes her sad to be in it, especially when it is full of life, as now.

I was just in the room, waiting for night to fall, and gazing at my piano, the one thing I really miss about being human, when I head the girl with the silent mind and the deceptively communicative eyes say something to her parents, "I'm going to go and look around the top floor before bed, 'kay Mom?"

I drifted out through the door as I heard her coming up the stairs. I made sure I was invisible, though. I didn't want her to see me, not yet at least. She, or possibly her parents would see me, though. It was one thing I liked about people in the house. Playing with them. While eternity without a way out had made many of us bitter, it had just caused me to get very bored, and therefore develop a (albeit quite childish) sense of humor. Whenever new people moved in, I always let them see me. But it worked best when the mind was weak - either the person was very tired, or slightly inebriated. That way, they couldn't be sure if what they were seeing was real, and it was often very entertaining to watch, and listen to. Mother thought it childish, but, regardless, as the girl came up the stairs, she couldn't see me waiting at the end of the hall.

As she emerged into the hallway, I realized that this was the first time I had seen the girl(I still did not know her name) with my own eyes, rather than through the minds of her parents.

As I looked at her, I was struck by something that I hadn't seen when looking through other's eyes. She was small, short and slight, and her skin seemed almost transparent - her whole appearance screamed _delicate_! However, if I looked closer, beyond the immediately obvious, at the way she held herself, say, I noticed more than that. She looked, not determined, exactly, but strong in some other way than physically. It was interesting, and I found myself wishing that I could see into her mind.

As I watched her, I again felt the need to see into her head, see her motivations, as she walked through the upstairs, looking into all the rooms. Perhaps she was simply getting to know the house, but I did not like guesswork. I wanted to _know._

She neared the end of her little tour as I was contemplating this, and spotted the door. The extra door, the one to my piano room. She looked confused when she realized that it was there, taking in the old, outdated and rusty hardware. She eagerly reached for the door - she was. . . curious, and her face fell when she realized the handle wouldn't turn.

I watched as she headed back down the stairs, and heard her question her father about it before she came back up. Because I was listening closely, I caught her name. Bella. Beautiful. It fit her.

When she came up the stairs again, she turned, almost involuntarily, and stared at the door for a moment before she turned back. And the glimpse of her face, it was an interesting expression. Determined. For what felt like the thousandth time tonight, I wondered why.

After staring at the door for a few seconds, she gave her head a peculiar little shake, and then headed into what I presumed was her bedroom. I realized with a little jolt that it was my bedroom. Or had been, when I had really lived here.

* * *

Later that night, I found myself ghosting - ha, _ghosting_ - back into Bella's room. It didn't exactly make sense. Usually, I only appeared to one member of the family, and not children - their reactions weren't as fun - so she did fit that. But the part I enjoyed most was _hearing_ the reactions - in the person's mind, the things that they would not dare to say aloud. So it didn't make sense, I realized, as I floated through her doorway - because I wouldn't get that with her, but yet I still did. I floated to her window, and settled into the window seat there. Of course, I wasn't actually sitting - I can't make contact with anything of the living world - but I positioned myself just a few scant millimeters from the surface of it, in a posture that looked like I was sitting, and waited.

I knew she would wake eventually. They always did. Somehow, I guessed, they could sense my presence in sleep, and it woke them. But, while I was waiting, I watched. It was surprisingly fascinating to watch Bella sleep, and to try and catch the things she mumbled. I heard "door" a few times. So she was still thinking about it, then.

About an hour after I positioned myself, she woke. It was not slow, but abrupt, as if she had set an alarm. She opened her eyes first, and looked around her, disoriented. Then she sat up, and for a minute she didn't react at all, but then she seemed to realize what she was seeing. I wasn't looking towards her, but I could see her reflection in the window.

This, her waking up, was usually my cue to leave, to become invisible and disappear, but instead, I turned towards her, wanting to really see her face. It was shocked and confused, a similar look to what I had seen on her face faced with that locked door. On a whim, I got up from the bench, and mimed walking (although I was really floating), out her door, down the hall, and to the door of my room. I paused, turning to make sure she was watching - she was, and stepped through the door.

I waited in the room, but it was several minutes before I finally heard her footsteps go back into her bedroom.

* * *

I let myself float out through the ceiling, and stayed there, staring at the stars. I was sure I had given her plenty to think about, but I realized that my mind was probably just as full - of her.

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**There it is!! I hope you guys enjoyed that, and please leave your thoughts in a review!! :D**

**3**

**SkySong**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. At all. They belong to Stephenie Meyer the amazing. :D**

**AN: First of all, I'm sorry that this is a little late. Well, later than I'd planned. I was away this weekend, but luckily I was able to bring my laptop with me(I didn't think I would be), so I typed this(and the majority of the next chapter) during the 12-hour car ride. I thought I was going to be able to upload this this morning, but my laptop didn't want to connect to my uncle's wireless internet, for some reason. However, my ipod did get internet, so I was bale to see all the lovely reviews, alerts and faves you guys sent me. And I must say, I'm thrilled and kind of shocked with the response that this story, as well as I'll Make a Believer out of You have gotten!! So I thank you so, so much for this. Now, I need to re-read all your reviews, and I will try to reply to all of them, but if I miss yours, it's not because I didn't appreciate it, but just thought I already had replied. Also, some PMs don't seem to like to show up in my FanFiction inbox, so if I miss answering those, that is why. Now, here's chapter two!**

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The next morning, I made sure to station myself in the hallway far before Bella was likely to awake. I wanted to see her reaction this morning, at least, as I was unable to hear it.

When she emerged, I was not disappointed. She exited her room looking relatively normal, but I saw her steal a glance at the doorway to my room, almost involuntarily, and then resolutely turn her face away from it, and keep her face turned away. She was clearly trying to pretend last night had not happened, and her expression was so amusing, that I involuntarily let a low chuckle escape my lips. She faltered for a second, almost as if she had heard it, but then continued resolutely forward.

As I shadowed her, drifting down through the ceiling to eavesdrop on her conversation with her father, I realized I was overly interested in this girl. It was her silent mind. Or, at least, that was what I was telling myself.

She was talking to her father about the house, and I was concentrating so much on her words, her expressions and body language - trying to crack the code that was Bella's secret mind - that I didn't pick up the nervous edge in her father's thoughts until it registered in his voice. Bella had asked "Can we really afford it?", referring to the house - it seemed that it was nicer and larger than what the family was accustomed to.

At her words, he immediately changed from the comfortable, happy-to-be-talking-to-his-daughter mood he had been in, to agitated and nervous. I could see she sensed it as well, by the way her eyebrows pulled together slightly in the middle. When he spoke, his anxiety was even more pronounced. "Yeah. . . Well, apparently, this house hasn't been able to keep tenants for very long. I think it's actually been empty for a while now. That's why the price was so low." I could see he was being truthful - also, I knew it to be the truth, but I could also see(even if I had been unable to hear it, _don't ask me why, Bells, please._) that he was hoping that she would leave it at that.

I could also see, though, even if I couldn't hear, that this girl was not one to just leave it at that. She was determined, curious, not happy with simple, glossing-over-the-truth answers. I liked that. "Why?" she demanded of her father, eyes intense. "Why has it been empty? Why can't it keep tenants?"

He was silent for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth. He finally decided on yes, reasoning that; _she's never been squeamish or superstitious, really, and she wouldn't thank me later for lying to her._ Even so, he seemed eager to discredit what he was about to say, laughing derisively - or, at least, that was what he was going for - as he answered her. "Well, well, I guess the folks around here are a bit superstitious. They say the house is supposed to be haunted."

As he said that last word, Bella nearly jumped out of her skin, and it took all my self control not to laugh aloud. This was what I loved. Playing with their minds, seeing their reactions. But, for the first time, the amusement was tainted with. . . remorse? For some reason, I felt bad playing with a mind so. . . innocent? Pure? I had no way to know, but, somehow, I guessed those things were true.

While I was mulling this over, Bella recovered, if only slightly, enough to speak, at least. "Haunted?" she choked. Her gaze, though, when looking at her father, I noticed, was not purely shocked, there was an edge of accusation, of anger. She was upset with him for ruining her denial of last night, I realized.

Her father's face, and mind, on the other hand, were purely panicky. He was. . . not narrow-minded exactly, but a stubborn non-believer in anything out of the ordinary. He wouldn't let the fact that this house was supposedly haunted get to him, he was just happy that there were able to get such a nice one. And he had been hoping that his daughter would react in the same way. His words spilt out in a rush, trying to reason with her. "Bella, don't get all superstitious on me! You don't believe in ghosts! This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you this, Bella. I'm sure it's really nothing. Somebody was probably home alone, heard a noise, and thought it was a ghost. They spread the story around, and now all those people are seeing ghosts because they think they're going to! Bella, it's nothing but self-fulfilling prophecy, okay? I want you to forget about it."

As he said all this, her face was conflicted, between wanting to believe what he said, I guessed, and what she had seen. When he finished though, her face hardened, into a mask of determination. "Alright," she told him, but I could see, that, with that simple word, she was promising herself as much as him that she would try to forget. About me. Most people had this reaction, but, for some reason, hers made me sad rather than amused.

* * *

For the next ten days or so, Bella was kept busy by her parents, whipping the house into shape. For the most part, she seemed to be succeeding in her efforts to forget about me, but, every once in a while, as she was coming up the stairs or down with boxes, I would catch her glancing at that door again. So I wasn't totally pushed out of her mind, and, for some reason that I could not fathom, this made me happy.

I found myself much more interested in her than I'd ever been in one of the house's tenants. Part of me wanted her to be able to forget about me, so that her mind would not be troubled, but part of me wanted her to look, and find out more. I had no idea why. The interest, maybe, could be explained by the silence of her mind. But this, I did not know.

* * *

I still had not decided which I wanted for her, but I got my second wish about a week and a half after they had moved in.

They were mostly unpacked now, and Bella was finishing her room. My room. I liked how she was decorating it. While her parents had decorated most of the house in a more modern style, minimalistic with clean lines, odd patterns, and little grace of design, the furnishings in Bella's room were softer, more classic. They matched the house, and I wondered if she had thought of that. My bedstead, too, had been wrought-iron.

She was done her arranging now, and she went to put the last suitcase on the shelf in her closet. I had completely forgotten about the box in the back of the closet, until her bag hit it, and then I remembered.

What would she do? I found myself hoping that she would investigate further, and I wasn't disappointed, as she reached up, felt around, and finally drew out the flat steel box that I had placed there almost ninety years earlier, that had managed to remain unnoticed until now.

With shaking hands, she brought it to her desk. She stood there for a moment, her hands resting on the metal top, before she carefully drew back the sticking catch and raised the lid.

Her eyes were wide as she lifted out the three thin, leather-bound journals within. She set them on the desk, then returned to the box the finger my collection of worn, yellowing newspaper clippings.

She then returned to the books, turning them over, examining them, but never lifting the covers. After a moment, she spied the thin line of gold embossing on the backs of them, and her fingers ran slowly over my name, like a caress.

_E. Masen._

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**There! I hope you enjoyed that, and I would love love love it if you continued to review!! Also, if you haven't yet, I STRONGLY suggest you check out I'll Make a Believer out of You before/while reading this one. :D And, one final time, THANK YOU for all the alerts, reviews and faves. And sorry for the long, rambling ANs! :P**

**SkySong**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: It's chapter three!! So soon? I know, aren't I so nice? :P Kidding! Seriously, I like to pretend I'm vain, but I'm not really. :P I promise. I think I had something I wanted to say in this AN, but I totally forget what it was. So I'll just have to settle for thanking all of my AMAZING reviewers once again. I already have almost twenty reviews for just two chapters!! I can't believe it! You guys are prostar. Maybe that IS what I wanted to say. . . Anywho, read on, I hope you enjoy!!  
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She only looked through my box for a few minutes after she found it, shuffling through my collection of old, crumbling _Chicago Herald_ clippings, not really reading any, but I saw her noticing the dates (1916-1918) and the subject (the Great War). She didn't open any of the journals, which I found curious. Was she. . .respecting my privacy? Or just working herself up to it?

I didn't get the chance to find out the answer to this question that day, though, as after about fifteen minutes, her mother's voice drifted up the stairs "Bella? Could you come and help me with these boxes?"

She sighed, looking slightly annoyed to be pulled away, told her mother she was coming, and then placed everything carefully back in the box, tucking it between her mattress and box-spring before she went down to help her mother.

* * *

I shadowed the girl for the rest of the day, but her mother kept her busy for the whole day, and she did not revisit my box at all that day before she fell, looking exhausted, into her bed that night. I did, however, catch her sneaking more glances at my door.

Again, I drifted into her room that night as she slept. She was talking again, and very restless. "Charlie, please?" she begged in her slumber. And "No, it's not because of that at all! I swear, I don't care about it!"

Who was "Charlie"? It sounded like he wasn't very good to her, whoever he was. Her boyfriend? For some reason, the thought of this upset me. Probably just because I didn't like the thought of someone so seemingly innocent being mistreated. That must be it. I'd been brought up to be kind to, to protect women.

* * *

I must have felt guilty for my constant watching of the girl, like I was intruding on her privacy, because I drifted out of her room just as the sun started to come up, returning to my piano room. When I got there, I found it wasn't empty.

Very uncharacteristically, my mother was there, floating a few inches off the ground, her back to me, as she stared broodingly out of the window that she couldn't even see through, as the shutters were closed, had been for over eighty years.

She turned around when I came in. I can't say she turned when she heard me, because we make no sound - no sound from movement, anyways - but I guess we can sort of . . . sense the presence of a fellow spirit. I've never needed to, as their thoughts would alert me, but others can.

There had always been, I'd thought, a sort of unspoken agreement between my mother and I. I left her alone, as much as was possible. I didn't follow her, tried to tune out her thoughts. Partly out of respect for her, but also because I knew she was suffering. I cared deeply about my mother, and that's why I tended to distance myself from her. Her suffering hurt me, because I had no way to help her. She didn't like that she was trapped here, but mostly she worried about my being trapped here, which was, of course, the whole reason for her imprisonment in the first place. She also missed my father, missed him terribly. I couldn't do anything about these, so, somewhat cowardly, I mostly tried to tune it, and her, out.

I gave her her space and privacy, and I'd always taken for granted that she awarded me the same courtesy, which was why, when she spoke - in a whisper, as to not disturb the humans - her words surprised me. "Edward, I don't like it."

"Don't like what, Mother?" I was so stunned by her words, that I didn't even think of probing her thoughts for their source. Even now, when it was my fault she was damned to an eternity of nothing, I was used to being her golden boy.

"Your obsession with that Bella girl."

"Obsession, Mother? I'm not obsessed with her! What are you talking about? I just-"

"Following her everywhere? Eavesdropping on her?" Edward, you watch her _sleep_. You don't call that obsessed? Nothing can come of it Edward."

What? I was very confused. At first I'd thought she was upset for my infringement of the girl's privacy. But no. I probed her thoughts, and realized it. She though I was in _love_ with Bella. "Mother, _no_. I can't hear her!! I'm curious as to why, that's all. I can't hear her thoughts.

She raised her eyebrows, not expecting this. "But why does it matter, Edward?"

"Well. . ." I replied, not wanting to admit to her the other reason for my interest in Bella, my half-hopes. "It doesn't, I guess. But it's never failed me before. I promise you, though, I do not love her."

"Alright," she agreed in a voice that told me as plainly as her thoughts did that she didn't believe me, and then picked that moment to drift through the wall, signaling the end of that conversation.

* * *

Even after my conversation with my mother - which I tried to put out of my head; I was only interested in the mystery of her mind, after all - I still drifted downwards to hover near the ceiling of the kitchen when I heard Bella go downstairs.

As she entered the kitchen - I got there first, thanks to my rather more effective means of locomotion - she slowly and precisely got herself a glass of juice, then stood contemplating it for a moment. Working herself up to something, it looked like, but I had no idea what.

"Dad?" she started.

"Yeah, Bells?"

"Well, I was wondering, do you have, like, a deed, a record or something, that lists the people who owned the house before us? I was just wondering about the history of the house. It's really old, historic, even. I was hoping to find out more about it, you know?" She said all this quickly, in a manner that seemed rehearsed and half-memorized. So she was trying to find out more about me. I smiled.

He contemplated her request for a moment, his thoughts waring between trusting her - which came naturally to him - and stopping her from getting frightened of the house and the rumors that surrounded it, which was important to him. Finally, though, he decided on the former. "All right, if that's all you want it for. There's stuff about the house in the middle drawer on the right-hand side of the desk in my study."

"Thanks Dad," she replied, and, on the surface, her face and voice were carefully composed, disinterested, but it was easy to see the raging curiosity and excitement beneath. She really wasn't that good of an actress.

She quickly downed the rest of her juice, setting her glass on the counter before heading out of the room. Her attempts at hiding her excitement as she walked to her father's study were very unconvincing, but her father, who had turned back to his paper, didn't notice. She was almost running as she rounded the last corner and went through the open door, only stopping when she was right at the desk, kneeling down and opening the drawer her father had mentioned.

She rifled through the contents, but quickly found what she seemed to be looking for and took the papers out, piling everything else back in haphazardly, and shutting the drawer. She then raced back up to her room, attempting - and failing - to be silent as she sped up the stairs.

Once in her room, she shut the door, locking it, and spread the papers out on her desk, while I stationed myself a few feet behind her where I could read them as she did.

The document was entitled a "record of tenants", and I glanced at the first entry on the top page:

_Owned by:_

_2004- : Charles H. Swan and Renee D. Swan_

_Occupied by:_

_2004- : Charles H. Swan, Renee D. Swan, and Isabella M. Swan_

Charles Swan. "Charlie" was her _father_! So that's all her dreams had been about last night, trying to get her father to give her the paper that was now on the desk in front of her! For some reason, this made me much happier than it should have.

She was now flipping through the document, until she got to the last entry on the last page, which she stopped at:

_Construction: _

_1899-1901_

_Owned by: _

_1901-1918: Edward W. Masen _

_Occupied by:_

_1901-1918: Edward W. Masen, Elizabeth E. Masen, and Edward A. Masen_

This was it, when she would find out who I was. But then I realized the problem the same time she did. I'd never thought about it before, but my family had _three_ E. Masens in it! Why, oh, why, had I not put my middle initial on those diaries? For some reason, I really wanted her to know it was me.

As I was thinking about this, I realized that Bella had frozen. I circled her, so I could see her face. She was staring at the paper, and I looked too, seeing what was probably the reason for her shock.

_Reason for vacating: _

_Deceased_

"They died?" she whispered, not even seeming aware of it.

She got up from her desk then, pacing and muttering to herself. I only caught odd words, like "The War" and "alone". She must be thinking we'd, or my father, at least, had died in the war. Close, but not quite.

She then dropped the papers on her bed, and went to her computer, clicking through a series of menus without seeming to realize what she was doing, until she arrived at the home page for some sort of electronic maps database. "A cemetery," she whispered.

* * *

I drifted behind Bella as she walked to Mapledale Presbyterian Cemetery, marvelling at her luck of choosing the right one on the first try.

She seemed surprised when the cemetery first came into view, and I again wondered at her silent thoughts. Was it the size, or the sudden way it seemed to materialize out of the trees? What?

She again seemed surprised as she entered, but this time it was easier to guess at the reason behind her shock. She must be seeing all the identical stones, and wondering why.

She was very methodical in her searching, walking up and down the rows in a zig-zag pattern, reading each stone carefully. With each Influenza stone - each 1918 death, to be precise, as they didn't actually say anything about the influenza - she passed, the confused furrow in her brow grew deeper.

Finally, she reached my grandfather's, William Thomas Masen's, grave. She stopped at this one, and I could hear her heart accelerate, but then her face fell as she saw the full name and the date. Then she moved on to my Grandmother Emma's grave, and finally, my father.

I looked at that stone for a minute with her, wondering for what seemed like the thousandth time where he was now, if he was missing us.

I was pulled back to the present by the clicking of Bella's camera, as she snapped a picture of his stone, then moved on, to be faced by my mother's marker.

This stone, like the sight of my mother, always made me sad and guilty, so I concentrated on Bella's face. The confusion was very evident now, the furrow deeper than ever. "Less than a month apart," she whispered.

Then, finally, she turned to my grave, and her face froze in shock. I knew what she was seeing. _June 21, 1901-October 18, 1918. _Died the same day as my mother.

She was shocked, almost mechanical, as she took a picture of my stone too, and then abruptly turned, heading back out the gate.

I remained where I was. How much I wanted to be able to tell her everything, I realized as I watched her retreating back. But it wasn't right for me to be involved, complicate Isabella's life, and scare her with my presence.

No, she would find out on her own, maybe care about this for a few more days, and then something else would come up, and she would forget all about the mystery of E. Masen. That was how it should be. So why was I so saddened by the thought?

* * *

**So, I think I like this chapter. Edward is very fun to write in. Did you guys like Elizabeth's appearance? I hope I did an okay job with their relationship. . . **

**So, I hope you guys liked this, and........ please continue to rrrrrrrrrrrreview!!! They make me very happy, and encourage me to continue to update quickly(hint, hint)! :D**

**-SkySong  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Wow. Again, I have to say how blown away I am with the response to this story. I have almost thirty reviews for just three chapters! You guys rock!! Also, this is really fun to write. I thought I would have nothing much to write about for the first few chapters, but Edward really has a lot going on in his head, even more than Bella sometimes. Again, I swear there was more I wanted to say in this AN. But I always forget. :P Oh, right, I got a request from **luuna cullen **to dedicate this chapter to her friend Lizzie whose birthday it was yesterday, so if you're reading this, Happy Birthday Lizzie(whoever you are :D)! OOh, also, that's right, Happy Birthday to Canada! (It's Canada day today) :D for any other Canucks reading this. :)**

**And now, enjoy!**

**P.s. Also, thanks to **Night Rises Again **for pointing out that Edward's birthday is June 20th, not 21st. :P My bad! **

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For some reason, I stayed in the cemetery for a while, just drifting. But then I realized how much time must have passed, and hurried back to the white house, wondering what Bella had done in my absence.

Not much, it appeared, as I found myself back in her house, having located her in her bedroom. Her bag from the cemetery was abandoned by her door, as were the flip-flop sandals she had been wearing. She was sitting on her bed when I came in, but soon after she got up and started pacing, only to sit back down fifteen minutes later. The process repeated itself many times over the course of the afternoon. Sometimes she would mutter to herself as she paced or sat, but I could never make out what she was saying. She would also occasionally make as if to look something up on her computer, but she always abandoned it at the last second, shaking her head.

This continued all afternoon, stopping only when she went down for dinner with her family, and then starting again immediately after. What was she doing? For some reason, the thought that she was so interested in the mystery that I presented made me slightly. . . happy. And again, I had no clue why.

Around ten o'clock, by the glowing numbers on her clock, Bella finally gave up and went to bed, although she lay awake for quite some time. After almost an hour of lying there with her eyes closed - I was unsure whether or not she was asleep - her eyes snapped open, and she made to get out of bed, reaching down under her mattress. Then she seemed to realize something, shook her head, and went to sleep.

The more I watched this girl, the more strange, and more fascinating, she seemed.

* * *

After that, she slept peacefully, not talking, so I went back to my room, giving her some space - even though she didn't know she needed it- only returning when she was back in her room after breakfast with her parents, which I had heard dimly through the floorboards of my room.

When she came back, I was able to make sense of her strange actions last night. First, she locked her door, then strode quickly to her bed, reaching under the mattress for my steel box of memories.

She opened it, but didn't touch the journals, and again I wondered why. Instead, she took out my pile of newspaper clippings, spreading them out on the worn floorboards.

She worked methodically, constantly, and quietly for the next few hours, but it took me a moment to realize what she was doing - putting them in chronological order.

I had no way to know what she was thinking as she did this, but I did see her taking note of the subject of the articles again, and her slightly surprised expression as she realized that they were all about the Great War. She also wrote down in a little notebook the range of dates, the first and last.

After she had them all spread out, spanning an area that covered most of her free floor space, she studied the clippings more closely, picking up one here and there, reading them.

There were a few she seemed more interested in than the others, two in particular. I moved behind her, to read the titles on them, and realized why she was looking at them. They were the two stories I had been so excited about, when the US joined the war, and when the draft was lowered. She studied them intently, running her fingers over the few words I'd added in the margins.

She sat there a while longer, she appeared to be thinking. Then, abruptly, she got up and placed them all back in the box, pushing it back under her mattress. Again, I wondered why she didn't read my journals. She had to still have questions, so why wasn't she trying to answer them?

As she sat at her computer, and brought up the webpage for the Chicago Public Library, I realized that maybe she was trying to find answers, in her own way. Why she wouldn't open my journals, though, I still had no idea.

She found the address of the Mapledale branch, and then gathered her things, preparing to visit it, I guessed.

* * *

As she - and I - approached the library, I realized that I recognized it. Mother had taken me there as a child, and I had looked up dates and names for history projects at school in the encyclopaedias there. I could even vaguely recall the opening of it, when I was four years old.

As she approached the door, I instinctively went in front of her, and my outstretched arm was inches from the door when I realized what I was doing. I let the arm drop, drifting through the door, then hearing it open behind me as Bella stepped through. Usually, me doing something like that would have made me laugh, but now, for some reason, I just felt sad.

I fell behind Bella as she made her way across the library to the desk where a pretty, middle-aged woman was sitting, her head bent over a thick history of the first world war entitled _A World Undone: The Story of the Great War. _So she was a history buff. Well, that would be helpful.

Bella looked nervous as she approached the woman - E. Cullen, by her nameplate- twisting and untwisting her fingers together in front of her. She didn't like talking to strangers? "Um. . .hello?" she began, her uncertainty making the words into a question.

"Hello!" the woman replied, looking up. _Hmm, I've never seen her here before, but, yes, didn't she just move in down the street from the Webbers?_ "How may I help you today? You're new at this library aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah," Bella answered her, looking as if she wondered how the woman knew.

"I'm here pretty much full-time," Ms. Cullen explained, although leaving out the bit about having seen her move in, so as not to make her more uncomfortable than she already seemed. "I figured I would have seen you at least once before now. Are you new in town? Would you like a card?"

"Yes, please," Bella replied, taking the papers the librarian gave her and filing them out.

After a moment, she handed them back, and the librarian glanced at them, then looked back at Bella. "That's all in order then, dear," she smiled "I'll have your card ready in about half an hour. Is there anything specific you'd like to look at while you wait?" She was the kind of person who was eager to please, not in the way most people are, but simply wanting to help people out.

Bella sucked in a deep breath, like she was working up her nerve - she must either be going to ask something kind of odd, or she just really didn't like talking to strangers - before replying "Um, yeah, I was actually wondering, do you have old issues of the paper?" Ah. I knew exactly how old she was talking about. Well, that _was_ a bit of a strange request. Not to me of course, but Ms. Cullen would wonder why.

"Certainly! How long ago are we talking about? Yesterday? Last week? June?"

"Ahhh. . ." Bella chuckled, contemplating her shoes, "Nineteen-eighteen, actually."

"You weren't joking when you said old!" Ms. Cullen replied. She was eager to help, and glad that she could, sensing a fellow WWI enthusiast. "Of course, it wouldn't make sense for us to keep paper copies from that far back, but our electronic archives date to 1905. Is there a specific date in 1918 you're looking for? And what paper?"

"The Chicago Herald," she replied, naming the paper that all of my clippings had come from. "And, from the beginning of september, I guess, to maybe early October?" So she was trying to find out how I died, I guessed. It made sense.

_Oh, not the war, the Influenza! _"So you're interested in the Spanish Influenza, then? Why didn't you say so?"

Bella looked confused. "The Spanish Influenza?"

"The Flu epidemic at the end of the First World War," the woman clarified, and now it was her turn to be confused. _Not the Influenza? then what?_ "Hit Chicago right around the dates you mentioned. It killed more people world-wide than the war did. Of course, you won't find much in the papers, because all the countries involved in the war censored the news, kept them from putting too much about it in the papers, to keep morale up. That's why it's called the Spanish Flu. They were neutral, so free to report the news, and, because of that, everyone thought they were the hardest hit. But, is that not what you're looking for?"

"No, it is, I think," Bella answered, and I wondered what story she would have. "I just didn't know that it was. I was walking in the cemetery the other day, and I noticed that an awful lot of people died around then, and they also all had the same headstone." Her story was a little bit odd, but Ms. Cullen didn't care, more concerned with sharing her vast amounts of knowledge with Bella.

She explained to Bella that there wasn't much about the Flu in the papers, but then found her a few big books on the subject, which Bella settled in a corner to read.

* * *

She sat there for quite a while, reading about what had become my fate, and looking sad and shocked. I felt the urge to comfort her, to tell her it was all okay, and again wondered at the reason behind these impulses. I'd never really noticed much about the humans before, much less been interested in what they did, or how they felt.

After about half an hour she seemed to think she'd found what she needed, getting up from the table and collecting her new card from the librarian, whose name I learned was Esme, and leaving the library.

I was about to leave her - I'd felt slightly bad for the fact that, even if she couldn't know, I never gave her privacy - when she surprised me by turning the opposite way from where she'd come, from the direction of the house.

At first I worried she was lost, but her tread was purposeful as she went into a little grocery a few streets from the library, buying a bunch of yellow roses from the floral section, then heading back out.

I was completely confused as to what she could possibly be doing as she walked, still away from her house, not realizing where she was going until we reached the gates of the cemetery.

She walked straight through the rows, stopping at our family plot. My grave, to be specific. She stood there almost frozen for a moment, until she removed the paper from the flowers, and laid them tenderly on the neatly manicured grass in front of my stone.

It was odd, what I felt then. Mother had always been upset that we had seemingly disappeared without a trace in the Influenza, no one close living to remember us. It had never bothered me, but now, seeing her there, caring enough about someone she didn't even know, it would have brought tears to my eyes, if such a thing were even possible. I drew in a breath to steady myself, try and shake the feeling, and she must have heard, as she whipped around, searching for the source.

For a second, I actually considered letting her see me, but then realized how bad an idea that would be, instead following silently after her as she left the cemetery and walked home, throwing glances over her shoulder, as if she sensed my eyes on her.

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**Well, there it is!! Again, thank you, thank you, thank you all for the reviews, and please, please tell me what you thought of this chapter! :D Next is the exciting one, I know, and hopefully I'll have it up saturday. I'm about to leave for a two-day camping trip, so that's the soonest it'll be up. **

**And now, rrrrrrrrrreview! :D**

**-SkySong  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN(Please read, guys!): First off, sorry this is a little later than I'd said. It's been a crazy weekend. And then, thank you for all the beautiful reviews, please keep them coming guys! If you read this, and you liked it, please take the time to tell me what you thought. Constructive criticism is also welcome. And, thank you to everyone who told me to have fun on my camping trip. :D It was a great time. :) And then, if you're new, please check out the companion to this story, _I'll Make a Believer out of You._ Not just because I want people to read it, but because there's stuff, explanations, I leave out of this, as to not be redundant, but that really flesh out the story more. And, because the fun part, for me at least, is seeing what both of them are thinking. And now, read on!**

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I don't know what I had been expecting her to do when she arrived back home, but it wasn't what she did.

While other people had been curious about me, before, no one had taken it to the level that Bella had, doing all this research, finding out what she could. And then she just stopped. After I saw her realize what had happened to me, and then, on top of that, the flowers, I'd been sure something big was going to happen. I'd been almost forming a plan, all the time I'd been watching her, and after she put those flowers on my grave, I sure that now I could put it into effect, sure she would want to go along.

But then, when she got home, I don't know what I thought she would do, but it wasn't what she did. When she went up to her bedroom, she never looked at my door once, and then she went back down to help her mother in the garden - voluntarily, without being called.

She stayed there the whole day, and I didn't know what to think. Was she truly finished with me? Now that she knew what had happened, would she leave this all behind, forget about me? Had the flowers simply been a nice gesture, a memorial for all the victims of the Influenza? Had it just been a random chance that it was me?

She didn't look at my door, or my box, or the newspapers, or anything, all day, and it was only when I was watching her sleep - fitfully, turning over, mumbling things - that I could maybe hope she was still thinking of me.

* * *

She seemed eager and anxious when she woke up, taking the stairs two at a time and gulping down her breakfast. Were all humans this impossibly confusing without the mental context as a guide?

When she got back to her bedroom, Bella immediately went over to her window seat, lifting the cushion to reveal my metal box, in the place that she had last left it. So she hadn't forgotten and given up. The thought made me much happier than it should have.

She had moved my newspapers to her desk drawer earlier in the week, so the only thing the box contined now was the journals. I was probably as excited as she was as she lifted the lid and carefully removed all three small books. And then she froze.

I moved closer, to see what had paralyzed her, and remembered when I saw it.

The small brass key that I had kept there. She must have realized what it would open.

She stood there, presumably in shock for a moment, before hurriedly gathering up the journals and key and swiftly making her way to my room.

* * *

Her hand shook as she tried to fit the key into the lock, and when she did, there was again that freeze, that moment of shock, and taking it all in.

She walked around, absorbing it all for a few moments - the piano, the decorations that hadn't been touched since nineteen-eighteen, and I watched her, wondering, as always, what she would do next.

She surprised me, as always, by boldly going and sitting in the little seat under my window, and opening the first of the journals.

After watching her for a few moments, I made my decision.

If anyone could help me, it would be her, I could feel it. If it had just been for me, I wouldn't have wanted to involve this girl in it, because it was sure to be complicated and difficult, for her. Even so, I didn't want to, but I knew I should. Because if it worked, it wouldn't just be me she set free. My mother deserved it.

So, right there, standing in the doorway, I made myself visible, positioning my translucent imitation of a body so that it looked as if I was standing, and waited.

And waited.

She never looked up, completely absorbed in what I was sure were very boring journals.

I couldn't see precisely what she was reading, so I had to make do with watching her face, which mostly held a look of intense concentration, but as she moved on, her brow furrowed, as if she was noticing something not-quite-right.

Like so many things, it seemed, I'd forgotten about the photograph until she found it, delicately picking it up by one corner and holding it to the light. From where I was, I could see my mother's faint handwriting on the back

_Edward William Masen, Edward Anthony Masen, Elizabeth Masen, August 23, 1918._

I had just finished reading the words when she let out a shocked gasp. Seeing me in the photo. Remembering that first night.

I couldn't see her face really, she'd always kept it turned down, but then she looked up, and her face was frozen in a mask of shock and horror, her mouth shut. It looked like she was holding back a scream.

Even though I'd mostly left behind my childish let's-scare-the-new-tenants games once I'd started following Bella, I still couldn't help but grin at her expression, classic human reaction to my appearance.

It was clear she was not going to speak first, so I did, falling into my natural joking nature. I'd never really been one for serious moods. "So you've finally decided to notice me, have you? I was worrying I'd become permanently invisible!"

It took her a second to answer, her eyes still bugged out in shock. When she did reply, it was almost a shout. "Who are you?"

I couldn't help myself, I laughed aloud at the shock and panic on her face. "Take a wild guess," I suggested, pointing to the photo she still held. How easy it was to fall into teasing her, taunting her.

"But you can't be Edward Masen?" she told me, although it sounded like a question rather than a definitive statement.

"Then who, or what, do you propose I am?"I asked her, smiling somewhat tauntingly, daring her to say it.

"A figment of my imagination."

I raised an eyebrow. So stubborn. "That's the only possibility?"

"Yes."

"Why is that?"

Because you're dead!!"

"Yes," I allowed "But that doesn't mean I'm a figment of your imagination."

"Then what are you?" she demanded.

"Well," I replied, pretending to be thinking, "I've been throwing around terms for the past few decades. Wandering spirit, Imprint of a departed soul, but I find plain old "ghost" works as well as anything." I grinned at her.

"You can't be a ghost," she persisted, but I could see the indecision warring in her eyes.

I pretended to be offended. "And why is that?"

"Because ghosts don't exist!" she nearly shouted again, as if by saying it loud enough, it would be true.

I shook my head, half-smiling at her sadly. "Oh, that's where you're wrong. But don't worry, Miss Swan, I'll make a believer out of you yet."

She seemed momentarily distracted, even though that hadn't been my intention. "How do you know my name?" she narrowed her eyes at me.

"I'm around. I hear things," I shrugged, hoping to leave it at that.

"You're spying on me?!" she accused, outraged now.

My voice hardened automatically, matching her tone. "What, so you're the only one who is permitted to snoop?" I shot a pointed glance at the diaries in her lap. Not that I minded, but it proved my point. Then my voice softened. I didn't even know her, and already I couldn't be mad at her. " By the way, thank you for the flowers. It was touching. The fact that there was no-one to remember us has always made my mother sad, but it's never bother me. But I found I liked it. Thank you."

"N-no problem."

That seemed to be all she was going to say, so I elaborated. "That's what convinced me to trust you, you know. So many people have come through this house, and most of them have seen me. I always show myself from time to time. Just for a bit of fun," I grinned at her wickedly, and she shuddered, remembering the first night, I presumed. "Eternity can get tedious. But none of them ever cared to investigate further. And then you came. You seemed to really care. But I still didn't know if I could trust you. The flowers made me sure, and I was hoping that you'd be able to help me."

Now she looked confused. "Help you?"

"Yes," I nodded eagerly, and then added, "If you're willing, of course. That's why I decided to come here today. In all the times I've appeared to people here, you're the first person I've let see me in the day. And who I've talked to."

"I'm honored." she replied dryly, but was unable to maintain the sarcasm for long, her curiosity must have gotten the better of her. "But wait. Help you how? What do you need help with?"

"Well. . ." I started, unsure. This was the tricky part. "As you can see, I'm a ghost. What do you know about ghosts?"

"That they don't exist," she replied immediately, confidently. Stubbornly.

"Right. Well, I'll tell you then, if you won't cooperate. What I've found out, from talking to others, is that we're here for a reason. Something didn't go right in our human lives. There was something we were supposed to achieve, maybe. Usually though, it's because we were unhappy in some way, or we are unhappy with something that happened, or didn't happen, when we are alive. Some ghosts just need to work things out, come to terms, be at peace, to cross over. But I've heard of others that had to change things. In their past. But we can't influence our own past." I told her, earnestly, looking into her eyes, making sure she understood. "We need help. The difficult part is that most spirits know what it is they need to change. I don't. I was happy. I am happy, well, as happy as a ghost can be," I smiled at her sadly. This was the hard part. I needed her help, but, for some reason, I didn't want to make her do this. "I don't see why I can't leave. I need help to figure that out. And help to get it done."

"And you think I can help you?" She didn't sound skeptical now, just curious, maybe a little disbelieving.

"Maybe," I was pretty sure, but I didn't want to sound too eager, come on too strong. "I've heard that other spirits got a feeling about their humans, and, well, you just seemed to care so much. . .I know it's asking a lot," I assured her. I wanted to make it clear that I wouldn't force her to do anything. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I don't know how. I don't know what you need," She didn't sound like she was making excuses, though. More like she was considering the possibility, but looking at the flaws in the plan.

"I can help you figure it out," I promised her.

"How?"

During our conversation, I had drifted closer to her, and she was now near enough that I could touch her. "Let me introduce you to myself," I suggested. I knew the theory of this, from others, and prayed it would work as I reached out to take hold of her hand.

* * *

**So there you have it! I think I like this chapter, but I'm not sure. Probably because I'm a little tired, but I wanted to get this up tonight. I hope you enjoyed that, and that Edward's thoughts aren't too incoherent. He's really confused, so let's say that's why things may be a little bit choppy. . .:P So, I guess that's about it, now please rrrrrrreview! :D**

**-SkySong**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I should probably be putting these every chapter, but you guys know the drill. I don't own Twilight, not in any way, not at all. End of story.**

**AN: First off, sorry this is a bit later than usual. I've been working at a day camp, basically 8-5 when you factor in travel, I have a bunch of reading I want to get done, etc. Basically just busy with life. :P Also, I've started Beta-Reading for the story Two Paths Intersected, so that takes up some of my time. Plus, I couldn't figure out how I was going to write this is EPOV. But now it's done, and I think I'm pretty happy with it. :) So, sorry it's late, but here it is! :)**

**And, of course, thank you to all of my fabulous readers and reviewers! And the people who've added me to alerts and faves. I really love them, so please keep them coming!**

**And now, read on. :)**

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It was the strangest feeling, as I raced through the familiar streets, taking Bella with me through time, back to a place I couldn't even go anymore. In those few moments, it was almost as if I had substance again. I wasn't alive, not quite. I couldn't exactly feel the wind of our passage in my hair, or the beat and pulse of blood in my veins, the pounding of my heartbeat, but I could remember them so much clearer, almost as if they were happening. In those few moments of going through time, it was as if I was halfway back to being alive. I could even almost feel her hand in mine. I couldn't be remembering this, so I didn't know what it was, but it felt like the hollow image that was the only shape I had now - no substance, just an illusion - was transforming halfway into a real form, with blood to flow and nerves to feel her hand in mine.

It was also just an extraordinary feeling, to be speeding backwards in space and time. I heard of it from others who had done it, and learned the theory - a clear image of the moment you needed to go back to, if strong enough, should be able to take you there - but I'd never done it myself. You couldn't, not unless you were transporting someone like I was now. I, in this form, couldn't stay back then, because this form of myself didn't exist then. My spirit self had been one with my physical self in July of 1918. Two representations of the person who was me, Edward Masen, could not exist together.

That was what I was worried about as time and place stopped shifting and settled into the bustling 1918 sidewalk that was my destination, and I felt myself pulled back, as if on a giant elastic - strong, irresistible - to the present day and my piano room. If I wasn't there, I couldn't know what was happening, know my thoughts as I saw her, couldn't know if she would even succeed in exchanging one word with my past self.

I was immobile in the centre of the room - not knowing if I'd be able to stand not being there, not seeing what was going on, and not even having a physical outlet for my impatience, like pacing, in this body - when it hit me.

It was a memory. Sharp, fresh, clear, and - impossibly - new. Well, it started off familiar, like a thousand other memories I had - so many, so much the same, that they had all blended together in my head - of the walk to the newsagent's every morning. This time, it was different. Sharp. Clear. I could feel and see everything perfectly again - Mrs. Milton and her little boy, smiling as I passed, the summer sun hot on my shoulders, starting to burn the back of my neck. The light, sweet scent of a late blooming rosebush in front of the general store. All this was familiar, like a thousand other memories, but I was experiencing it like it was all happening again, right now.

Then something happened that I knew I'd never had a memory of before this moment. On the sidewalk in front of me, a girl. She was wearing a long, blue skirt and a cream blouse, her brown hair piled elegantly on top of her head in delicate braids. She was standing in the middle of the walkway, blocking the flow of foot traffic and looking frantically around her. Bella.

Somehow, a new memory was being created in my mind. As my past was changing, so did my mind, my memories. I could hear my own newly remembered thoughts as clearly as I could hear my current thoughts, reactions to all that was passing. I noticed the girl, wondering what I could do to help her, wondering if she was lost.

"Excuse me, Miss, are you lost?" I heard myself say, feeling fervently grateful for the time and place where I had grown up, the lessons of chivalry and etiquette drilled into my head as a boy.

I watched, along with my past self, as Bella started to turn around, flustered and confused "Uh, no, just loo-", and then watched the satisfied smile spread over her face as she finished her sentence, "just new.".

"You're new in town?" I heard myself ask, smiling at this strange girl, who, I had noticed, seemed strangely out-of-place, even though, physically, she fit in perfectly.

"Yes. We just arrived, and I'm trying to get acquainted, but it's awfully confusing. . ." I watched Bella answer. She was playing it perfectly.

"I could help, if you like." I heard my past self offer. "My name is Edward Masen, if you are in need of a tour guide?" Perfect.

"Yes, thank you! That would be lovely, if you have the time." She smiled, and I could tell she was as pleased as I was with how easily this was falling into place. "I'm Isabella Swan"

She offered her hand, and I took it lightly in mine, kissing her fingertips, and noting the blush on her cheeks, as if this took her by surprise, and wasn't the common practice I had thought it to be. "It's lovely to meet you, Miss Swan."

"A-and you," Bella stammered, and I smiled, amused by her awkwardness.

My past self, I realized through my remembered thoughts, was as interested in Bella as I had been when she first moved in, and was therefore more friendly that he might have been otherwise. "I was on my way to get the paper. But I'll just be a moment, and then I could show you around, if you would like? Whereabouts are you living, what would you like to see?" it couldn't have been going better if I'd written a script for their conversation myself.

For a moment, I was afraid Bella would fumble and tell me her address, but she didn't, quickly making up a new story. "I'm not actually living here, we're just visiting an aunt for a few weeks. I'm actually not sure of her address, but I remember the way back. I don't really need to know where things are, I'd just love to see the city. It's very beautiful, and I'm used to a much smaller town"

* * *

I left her then, and the memory changed to the familiar one of buying my daily paper, but it, again, was so much clearer. I could smell the precise scent of the interior of the shop, feel the texture of the newsprint under my fingers.

I hurried out of the shop, not stopping to make small talk with the owner as I often did, eager to get back to Bella. I took her walking around the city, in the streets near my - our - house. I was slightly curious as to why she was so vague about where she lived. I'd have to tell Bella to get a better, more solid cover story.

I talked to her about the city, the places we passed, the people who lived there. I tried to impress her with my minimal knowledge of architecture, making a lot of things up. I was hoping she would start a conversation about something else, really talk, but she mostly just listened, and that made me sad. This worried me slightly. I hoped I was just interested in meeting someone new, eager to please. That had to be all. Anything else could destroy the plan that hadn't even been made yet.

I also hoped that Bella would talk, but for a different reason. She needed to find out about me. She was supposed to be doing detective work.

As I watched all this, I marvelled at the strangeness of it. It was like the most vivid of memories - and, I suppose, that was what it was - but it played out like a movie, almost, but a sensory movie. I could smell the gardens, I could feel the ground beneath my feet and the breeze on my face.

After a few minutes, though, Bella started talking. Finally. "So, you walk into town to get the paper every day?" she asked, casually. What? She already knew I did this, and knew why! Why was she asking?

After a few more questions like this, and answers, which I happily gave, happy that she seemed to want to converse, I figured it out. She was getting me comfortable, and establishing her information. She knew these things she was asking me, but of course I couldn't know she knew. Smart girl. More and more, I was getting the feeling that I'd picked my helper well.

They, we - I really wasn't sure which pronoun to use - talked for a while. She was gaining his/my trust. Again, she was clever, talking just enough, about just the right things.

After about twenty minutes though, I started to wonder if she shouldn't be somewhere - she'd said she was visiting an aunt - so I decided it was time for her to go.

I thought hard of the memories I'd just experienced, and I managed to get there, just able to resist the elastic pull back to my proper time long enough to bring her back, alerting her to my presence, and waiting while she said goodbye, and they made informal plans to meet again. Perfect. Then, once she was free again, she gave me her hand, and we were gone.

* * *

**There you go! I hope that was good, and not overly confusing. My two versions of Edward confuse me endlessly, especially from EPOV. So, I'm leaving on a two-week vacation on Thursday, and I'd like to get another chapter up before then, but I'm working a bit, seeing HPB, packing, etc., so I don't know if I'll be able to. I'm going to try, though. And if I don't, sorry in advance, but I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review!! :D**

**-SkySong**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Twilight = not mine. End of story. **

**AN: Hello all! First off, sorry about the delay. Huge delay. I've been in Paris for the past two weeks, and I got back yesterday. It was amazing, but it's also good to be home. :) And then, the standard, thank you all for your lovely reviews, as always!! Now, this chapter is a little short, but that's because its sister chapter in I'll Make a Believer out of You was as well, and I'm trying to match the timeframe in each pretty much exactly. I think I like this one, but I think I may have had some issues with Edward's narration around the dialogue in some parts. Anywho, read on, and I hope you enjoy!**

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Again, there were those brief few moments of speeding through time, although now it was forward instead of back. It was disconcerting even to me, someone well-versed in the supernatural, so I could only imagine how strange and even frightening it must be for Bella. Yet, I mused, as we sped through quickly aging Chicago streets, she was taking it very well - apart from her original moment of panic when she arrivied and found herself alone. The girl had nerves of steel.

When I finally deposited her back in her house, in her present time, however, I realized that this might not be so much the case, as her experiences of the past hour seemed to have caught up with her, and she sat there, fighting to regain her breath and looking bewildered.

I hated to know that I - me and my search for the afterlife - was the cause of her distress. "I'm sorry I had to pull you away like that," I apologized "I hope I didn't frighten you. You handled it very well." I smiled. It was true; she had, at least until now. "But your mother was wondering where you'd got to, and I couldn't have her coming up here looking."

"So you were here, then," she started, but then she seemed to realize something that caused her expression to change, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as she fixed me with what was now a suspicious, almost accusatory gaze. "Wait- how did you know she was wondering where I was?"

"I hear things." I grinned at her, while wondering if she would be able to handle the full truth. She _had_ done remarkably well so far.

"But Charlie's not here right now," she protested, and I could see she was struggling to unravel my meaning. "She doesn't talk to herself."

"I hear things." I repeated, curious to see if she would be able to work it out for herself.

She looked at me for a second, bewildered, but then something in her face changed, and I could almost hear the click as she put together the double meaning of my words. "Wait. . . are you trying to tell me you can. . hear thoughts?"

I smiled shyly, nodding at her. _Brave, and clever, _I thought. I definitely wasn't prepared for what came next.

"What?" she almost shouted. "No!" She appeared to be panicking as she continued to shout at me. "Why didn't you warn me, Edward Masen?! That's a dirty trick!"

I realised then why this realization had elicited such a strong reaction in her. "No," I started to explain, hoping to calm her. "don't worry, I-"

She was having none of it. "What did you hear?" she spit at me. Brave and clever, but with a considerable temper.

"Nothing!" I assured her again, slightly put off by her fury.

"_Exactly_ what did you hear, Edward Masen?" She snapped, still clearly distressed. I wondered what she could have been thinking that was so imperative to keep from me. "I think you may have a slightly different definition of _nothing_ than I do."

"No, I promise you," I pled, but my words were only met with a cold, hostile glare. "When I say nothing, I mean _nothing. _Isabella, I can't hear you."

This seemed to through her for a loop, as she blurted out "What do you mean? I'm not saying anything."

I took care to explain clearly and precisely, as to not set her off again. "Bella, I can't hear you. At all. I don't know why, and it's never happened before, but I can't hear your mind. Not a peep." Again, I contemplated the mystery that were her silent thoughts.

"You can't hear me?"

"truly, no." I smiled at her, at the look of relief on her face. "And I have no idea why. I've never had any trouble before, with ghosts, or humans. Speaking of which, your mother is coming up here to check on you momentarily, so can we relocate to your bedroom?" I hadn't been paying that much attention before, what with her shouting at me, but now I could hear Renée Swan wondering what her daughter was up to, why she'd been so quiet, and hadn't come down all morning.

"Oh, yes, right!" She quickly gathered up my journals and the key to the room, following me out the door, then locking it behind her. As she turned to face me, I saw again the burden in her arms. It was my instinct to offer her help, to take it from her, but I knew I couldn't, and I was frustrated with the limitations that this existence imposed on me.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, even though she hadn't asked for assistance. "I'd offer to help you with those, but it really wouldn't be much help." I reached out to her, demonstrating. I watched her face carefully as she watched my hand sink through her arm as easily as if it were water, but her features showed not shock or fear. She was truly an amazing creature. "As you see," I continued, as it seemed like I should say something, the moment had become too quiet, "I can't make physical contact with things of the livi-" I stopped abruptly, hearing her mother's footsteps and accompanying thoughts on the stairs. I let my image, the faint imprint of the body I had once occupied, fall away, allowing me to see but remain unseen.

Bella was quick to take my cue, sprinting to her bed, sitting down, and opening one of the books on her lap, just as her mother walked through the door. "Oh, there you are, Bella! I was wondering where you'd got to! What have you been doing up here all this time?"

"Just reading, Mom," she said, motioning to the journal in her lap. Luckily, Renée didn't look closely enough to realize that they weren't your average paperback novels.

"Alright honey, you have fun! but maybe try and get outside later, it's a lovely day!"

Bella looked slightly exasperated to be addressed as if she were five years old, but if she was annoyed, it didn't register in her tone as she answered. "'Kay Mom". With that, Renée turned and made her way back downstairs.

As soon as her mother was out of earshot, Bella called my name in an almost angry whisper. "_Edward?_"

"Yes?" I replied, laughing at the harshness of her tone.

"How do you _do_ that?"

"I've told you before that I can become invisible, I'm sure?"

"Um, no. You definitely haven't. I would remember something like that, I think."

"I'm sure I have,"I repeated. It was one of the first things I'd said to her. Indirectly, but I'd definitely mentioned it. "Regardless, what self-respecting ghost can't become invisible? Most of us choose not to be seen _all_ of the time, my mother, for instance. . ." I trailed off, wondering if it was wise to bring her into this.

This sidetracked her. "Your mother's. . . like you? Your father as well?" she asked.

"No," I told her. He had been lucky enough to escape this. "Just her and me."

"You don't need me to help her too, do you?" she asked me hesitantly "To . . . cross over, I mean?"

"No," I was quick to reassure her. I wouldn't place that much of a burden on her delicate shoulders. "I already know why she cannot cross over."

"But . . .doesn't she need help getting it done?"

"Not exactly." I replied. "You see, she always worried about me, wanted me to be happy. She won't be able to leave here until I do. Which is why I took the trouble to seek you out. I'm not all that concerned with crossing over for myself. But I want her to be able to. Speaking of which, was meeting me today any help? Do you know what we need to do?"

"I think I've got an idea," she replied. Of course she did. I'd definitely picked the right person. "but I want to investigate more. I'm going to read the rest of these," she motioned to the journals, "And I'll probably need to ask you questions. Is that alright?"

"Of course. Whatever you need."

* * *

She spent the rest of the afternoon inside, in her room, defying her mother's wishes, and reading my journals while I watched, somewhat impatiently. Occasionally, she would throw a random question at me, but none of them suggested avenues I hadn't already considered and rejected.

Finally, she seemed to come to a conclusion, firmly shutting the last journal with a somewhat ominous sound before addressing me "Edward," she said "I think I've got it."

"What is it?", I pressed.

"Edward, you're going to war."

**

* * *

Well, there you have it, I hope that was an okay return after my weeks of absence. Thanks for reading, and please, please, leave your thoughts in a review. I love getting your reviews, and read every one, so I'd love it if you'd leave a quick note with your thoughts! I'll try and have another chapter up by monday latest. :)**

**-SkySong.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: You know the deal. Twilight's not mine, end of story. :)**

**AN(PLEASE READ THESE, GUYS!): haha, sorry for the shouting. I just want to make sure people read the ANs, for my new readers, because I think some people don't know that this is actually the second take, so to speak of this story, and I did it first in BPOV(I'll Make a Believer out of You) so, yeah, if you didn't know, I recommend you check that one out, because I think it makes more sense if you read both. . :) **

**Alright, newsflash over, sorry to those of you to whom that was already old news. So, here's chapter eight! Now, I'm really pleased with the response for this story in general, but I hope some of you didn't abandon me because of my absence of the last couple of weeks, I got rather less reviews last chapter. :( But, that aside, thank you to those who do review, you're fantastic, I don't want you to think I'm not grateful, because I am :D And if you read this, and like it, you know what to do to make me a happy chicken. :D Now, read on, Macduff! (If my family are the only people who use the expression "lead on, Macduff", that's going to sound really bizarre. :P**

* * *

I stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment before I even understood what she meant. Of course, I realized, I should have seen it coming. All those journals, the newspapers; I'd been obsessed then. But I'd worked through all that, realized that it was good I'd never gone.

"No. . . it can't be". It couldn't be. It was the first thing I'd thought of as well, but I'd tried that, gotten over it.

She wasn't having that, though. "Edward, what else is there? You had no other ambitions, I've been looking all afternoon! Don't tell me this never occurred to you? It's the only thing that makes any sense!" She'd got an idea in her head, and didn't want to let go of it. And, looking at it from her point of view, it did seem plausible. But I knew it couldn't be that simple, as much as I might want it to be.

I tried to explain myself to her "It. . .did," I confirmed, "But I got over it! I made myself get over it. It doesn't bother me anymore. . ." but while I said this, I was thinking. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was that, after all. It made sense, in a way. If only it could be that simple. . .

"Ok," she started, and I could tell she was modifying, remaking her theory as she went, coming up with her ideas as she presented them to me. "So maybe you are over it. But maybe that's not why you can't leave. You said sometimes spirits can't move on because there was something that they were supposed to achieve, but didn't. You must have been supposed to go! Edward, it's the only thing that makes sense!" And as she put it that way, it did begin to make sense, but then I realized the flaw.

"That would make sense, Bella, but. . ." I tried to be gentle; she'd looked so excited to have solved the mystery, and I hated to destroy her hopes.

"But what?" she interjected.

"But I wouldn't actually go to war." I explained carefully. "Setting aside the issue of my age - I assume you were going to have me lie?" She nodded. Well, it had been done by countless people back then, it wasn't odd that she would decide on that course of action. "The war is almost over. It's July. There's less than four months. I wouldn't go straight over, I'd be at a training camp first. That can't be it. I'd never make it there."

She was quiet for a moment as she processed this, and when she spoke, she again seemed to be formulating her plan as she spoke. "Maybe, " she started. "Ok, you're right. You wouldn't go. But maybe that's not actually what you were supposed to do. Maybe. . . it's not something you were supposed to do. Maybe it's something you _weren't_ supposed to do."

Something I wasn't supposed to do? What was she talking about? Bella was grasping at straws now, and I was pretty sure she knew it. "Like what?" I answered, knowing that soon I would need to stop this in it's tracks, because it was getting us nowhere fast.

"Die."she replied, letting the word sit there for a moment before continuing. "You weren't supposed to die," she repeated, but this time she sounded more sure of herself. "You had so much talent, so much promise. You could have done great things. You were meant to survive, but the plan went awry. And now I have to fix it." she was confident as she said those last words, determination blazing in her eyes, along with another emotion, lurking somewhere in the back, that I couldn't quite make out.

"And what does that have to do with going to war?" I queried, still skeptical, although touched by her sentiment, her eagerness to help me.

"You get out of Chicago before the epidemic hits. You're somewhere else, and the conditions are different. You survive." As she said this, I could clearly see her plan. The simplicity of it, but also the ingenuity. It could work. It made sense. But . . .

"I've . . . never heard of changing something that. . . big before," I stalled, but wondered if it could be right. "But it does make sense," I mused, then; "How were you planning on achieving this?"

"Simple." She smiled, confident. "I'll keep going back. Get to know you, befriend you, and gain your trust. Then, after a time, I'll propose that you lie and enlist."

"You know, " I warned her, wanting to stop myself as much as her from getting carried away. "that there are so many things that could go wrong with that plan? But I like it. I guess you won't need my help much anymore, will you?" I grinned at her. So much for not getting carried away.

"Of course not!" She contradicted, and I was pleased, but also slightly worried, at the fact that this seemed to her like it wouldn't be a good thing. "I'll still need you to take me back, and tell me how I'm doing. His reaction to me, I mean. You _can_ read_ his_ mind, right?"

"Actually, no." I told her.

"What? But you said I was-"

"The only ghost or human whose mind I couldn't hear," I interrupted her. "I can't hear his, because he doesn't exist in the same context as I do. That's why I can't stay with you when you're there either. I belong to any time after I died. And that part of myself belongs to any time before I died. But don't worry, I can still help with his reactions. We're the same person, but different versions. Everything that he remembers, thinks, and feels, belongs to me. Because he is my past. But the things I remember, think, feel, and know, belong only to me. As his present changes, so does my past. I can't hear what he's thinking about you. But I can remember it." I hoped that my explanation hadn't been too confusing. It made even _my_ head spin.

It seemed to take her a moment to process this, but then she was back to business. "So, how did I do? What did he. .you" she hesitated over her choice of pronouns, "think of me today?"

I smiled at her. "I was captivated by you. I found you unlike anyone I'd ever met, and I am anxious to see you again. I'll wait by the newspaper stand much longer than normal tomorrow, if necessary, to see you." It was true, my past self had been very intrigued by Bella. If I let myself be honest, so was I. And that worried me.

"So I'm going back tomorrow?" She asked.

"Yes. I think it's best if we put this plan in motion straight away. I should leave now, though. Allow you to be human for a time." She needed to be human, away from me and my supernatural problems for a time. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. The same time." I gave her a parting smile, again allowing my image to drop away, and disappearing from her sight.

* * *

It was very tempting for me to stick around and watch Bella throughout the rest of that afternoon and evening, but I made myself leave her truly alone, as I'd promised I would.

* * *

I made myself leave her alone for the next morning as well, while worrying and puzzling over the fact that this was so hard to do.

Finally, it was the right time again, and I dropped quietly through the ceiling of her room, to find her sprawled across her bed, reading. I coughed quietly to get her attention. Her head whipped around, and when she saw me, her face broke into an easy smile.

"Are you ready?" I asked, and she nodded, so I stepped towards her once more, taking her hand, and pulling her back with me through the decades.

* * *

**And there you have it! So, this one was a little short too, sorry, but I hope you enjoyed all the same. :) I think I liked this one, but I sometimes worry that Edward's narrating is kind of. . I don't know . . choppy or something, so I hope it's not too bad. So, I've actually already started the next chapter, and it'll probably be ready by tonight, I'm thinking, so you know what to do if you want to get it soon! ;)**

**As always, thanks to all my readers and reviewers!**

**-SkySong :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Nope, Twilight's still not mine. :)**

**AN: First, wow, I didn't realize this one was so short, and it's long than the chapter from _Believer_! And then, I feel I must explain the timing of this chapter. I'd told you that I'd be ready by last night, and that you'd get it if you reviewed(which you did :D), so I was ready to put it up at about 10 last night, but then my laptop decided to give me problems, because it's very tempermental. :P I fought with it for a while, but it just didn't want to cooperate. So here you have the chapter, now, when my laptop decided to be nice. I must say, I think I kind of like this chapter, despite its shortness. They are parts of these chapters that I might be sort of skipping over, not doing as fully as I could in the EPOV, but that's because they're not different enough from the BPOV to really be that interesting to me. :P Good news is, next chapter starts the part of this story that was the reason I wanted to write this in the first place. So it gets more interesting, I promise. :D**

**And then, of course, thank you to all my beautiful reviewers! You guys make my day :)**

**Now, read on!**

* * *

I realized that I must've gotten the timing slightly wrong as I glimpsed my past self walking into the newsagents just as I arrived with Bella, before being whisked back to my current time.

As soon as I arrived, a memory settled over me - new, and again, remarkably clear.

_I'd arrived earlier than usual that day, hoping to see the girl, Isabella, again. Even though I'd only known her for a few minutes, I found her incredibly captivating. She wasn't like other girls I'd known, the ones I barely even noticed. _

_As the minutes wore on, with no sign of the pretty, brown-haired girl, I walked dejectedly into the shop to buy my daily paper, but today it was without interest as I scanned the headlines automatically for war news. I left the shop after the bare minimum of conversation with the owner, who I'd gotten to know well over the past year or so._

_As I left the shop, I looked around, and was delighted to see her standing on the sidewalk, looking around. __"Ms. Swan," I called, unable to contain my enthusiasm. She answered me with a smile and I quickly crossed the distance between us, picking up her delicate hand and bringing it to my lips briefly, all the while watching her eyes to make sure what I was doing was acceptable. It seemed to be. "It's lovely to see you again. I was hoping I might," I confessed._

_She smiled. "I told you that you'd see me again." she reminded me. "And please, call me Isabella."_

_I didn't mind agreeing to that. "If you wish, Isabella," I grinned at her, "but you must call me Edward as well."_

_

* * *

  
_

They were getting along superbly, I noted, as the rest of the memory continued to play out before my eyes. Almost too well, actually, and that was my only worry. He was too intrigued, too captivated, by her. And, if I were to be perfectly honest, I feared I was as well.

I spent the rest of the morning showing her around my neighborhood, telling her about people, all the while becoming more captivated by her.

Finally, though, I decided it was time to bring her back - she'd been with him for almost an hour.

* * *

She was considerably less frazzled than yesterday after her sojourn through time, getting right down to business.

"How did I do today?" She asked as soon as we got back.

"Very well," I replied truthfully. "You're a good listener. I never really connected to people all that well, but I love talking to you." The last part worried me slightly, as I was afraid that it was true for more than just my past self, and I knew how bad that could be.

"I'm glad," she smiled. "The plan's going well, then?"

"Yes, so it would seem. The same time tomorrow?"

"That's fine with me,"she agreed readily, "If it won't make him suspicious, my being there so much?"

"No, I love talking to you." I repeated.

* * *

As the days rolled by, turning into weeks, I became more and more impressed with Bella; how she expertly gained Edward's trust - slowly and gradually, just by being someone who was interested in what he had to say, how she subtly prodded the conversation towards the war. She was learning so much about him, me, and they were well on the way to becoming fast friends. All this should mean that the plan was going perfectly.

But through all this success, there was a fear, a doubt in my mind that wouldn't go away. I didn't seem to be considering enrolling any more than I had been before I'd met Bella. Actually, the draw, the temptation to lie and enroll, which had existed for me even before she suggested it, seemed to be fading. Instead, my interest was occupied by the charming, beautiful, and somewhat mysterious brown-eyed girl. I was beginning to talk about the war less out of interest, and more because it seemed to interest _her_. I still scanned and clipped up my newspapers for news, but it was becoming more a habit than something I actually cared about.

* * *

This all worried me, but I dared not mention it to Bella - for fear of her becoming discouraged - even if I did have plenty of opportunity to.

Because now Bella and I had fallen into the routine of little late-night planning sessions, to discuss her progress, but they frequently dissolved into simple conversation, and Bella and _I _were also quickly becoming fast friends. In our second week of knowing each other, I'd even acquired my first nickname . .

_"Are you-" she started to ask "I mean, is he-" then "ugh!" she exclaimed in frustration. "It's too damn confusing! You need. . . a nickname or something." She decided._

_"A nickname?"_

_"Yes," she explained somewhat impatiently, "to differentiate."_

_"Wha-" I started, but she held up her hand, silencing me._

_"Shh. I'm thinking."_

_After a few moments of concentration, her eyes lit up, and she snapped her fingers "I've got it!"_

_"yes?" I asked, somewhat hesitantly._

_"Casper." She smiled. "I'll call you Casper." It sounded somewhat like she was naming a dog._

_"Casper?"_

_"Yes, you'll be Casper," she explained, "And he'll be Edward. Much simpler." when I still looked confused, she added. "You know, like the friendly ghost."_

_"What?" Did this girl converse with spirits often?_

_She sighed. "I guess ghosts don't have much chance to watch TV." she laughed. "Casper, the friendly ghost. He's in a movie."_

_"Let me get this straight. You're naming me after a fictional ghost from a moving picture?"_

_She laughed again, the sound like bells. "That's about right."_

_

* * *

_

**There you have it. :) I must say, I kind of really liked that bit at the end where Edward gets his nickname. :) Well, I hope you enjoyed that, and here's the part of the AN where I ask you to please leave your thoughts in a review! :D**

**-SkySong**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Still not mine (Twilight, that is. This plot, however, does belong to me :D)**

**AN: So, I've realized I should probably write these ANs after I re-read the chapters, and not before, but whatever. I think I like this one, but I have the feeling it's maybe a little choppy and disconnected. Also way too teen-angst-love-story ish. Uh-oh. As a rule, I don't really like this kind of thing, but it was kind of necessary, I thought. Anywho, um, here it is! Now, I'm hoping I haven't lost the thread of this or something, because some of my lovely reviewers seem to have forsaken me. :( But, I do still have some lovely reviewers, and I love you guys! Thank you times a million, as always. Now, read on!  
**

* * *

That summer, for the first time in decades, I actually had a purpose again. No longer did I simply spend my days drifting, daydreaming, avoiding looking into my mother's haunted eyes, and scaring tenants.

Now, I met Bella in the mornings, and brought her back. I monitored her carefully through my bizarre memories, spent the days and nights thinking about them, pondering our progress, and the evenings talking them over, talking strategy, with Bella.

* * *

After a time, though, something became glaringly clear to me, something that had been haunting me for some time now. Right from almost the beginning, I'd known it. I was growing attached to Bella. Much too attached. No, not even that. I wasn't _growing_ attached, I was attached.

I felt so ashamed of myself. Here she was, working so hard, and so selflessly, to help me. And I had the nerve to fall- no. Not that. My mother's declaration wasn't true. It couldn't be. But nevertheless, I was much more interested in Bella, and not only for her capacity to help me, than I should be.

I was disgusted with myself. If I weren't careful, I could ruin all of our - her hard work. Already I caught myself fabricating excuses to draw our time out. I'd never been anxious, or obsessed with leaving this earth like some, but I'd always wanted to go. Now, though, I wasn't sure.

So, starting right then, that's what I was. Careful. When I wasn't actually with Bella, talking strategy, I avoided the house at all costs. I was trying to cut down the number of our nightly planning sessions, and when we did have them, I was strictly business, quickly consulting her on our progress, and then leaving. I tried to stop the newly forming memories, but those were one thing I had no control over. The best I could do was try and tune them out, pay less attention.

* * *

One day, though, the memory was too strong, too important to be ignored.

I was walking with Bella, taking her back to my house - I had a piece on the piano I had wanted to show her, and also I had wanted to introduce her to my mother. But it wasn't the events that were important, although they were significant enough in themselves. It was my thoughts. I hadn't been paying enough attention to the past recently, in my attempts to distance myself from Bella, and prevent what I now realized was the inevitable. But now that I was listening, I realized that it wasn't just me anymore. I could hear it in my memories, in fact, it had probably been there for weeks, if I'd had the sense to look.

He knew it, knew that he was. . . I forced my self to think it. In love with her. But unlike for me, it wasn't a cause of grief for him. How I envied my past self that. No, right at this moment, he - I - was planning the best way to tell her.

And then it hit me. What should have been glaringly obvious from so long ago. We had the wrong plan, the wrong idea. I was never meant to enlist, to save myself by getting out of Chicago. In fact, I was pretty sure I'd known that since the beginning, but had gone along for her sake. I realized that mistake now. But also, I realized, in the kind of blinding, lightning-flash epiphanies you only read about in books, what the real solution was. The real reason I couldn't go on, the real thing that would have to change in order for me to.

It all made sense now. What I - we, were feeling with Bella, the reason it was so monumental, and why it had taken me so long to see it for what it was, when my mother had guessed in only two days.

It was so monumental, because I'd never felt it before. Not ever in my more than a hundred years of existence, had I ever experienced love.

And I was supposed to. It was one of the most basic things, I realized now. Nobody should die without having loved and being loved in return.

That was what it would take to set me free. Not just loving her, but she would have to love me back, and I would have to know it. And, if things kept going the way they were, that might happen very soon.

But I couldn't let it.

I could say that the reason I wanted to stop myself from confessing my feelings to Bella were pure and selfless. That, if I did, she might realize she had feelings for me, and it would hurt her when I left. I could tell myself that was the reason, but I'd be lying.

No, the real reason I had to stop this, right now, was purely selfish. If I allowed my past self to confess to Bella, and she turned out to return my feelings, I would go on, disappear from this earth forever. And I had no idea where I'd end up. It could take me away from her, forever, and that, I couldn't stand.

Therefore, she couldn't be allowed to go back. She would eventually forget about me - I couldn't allow myself to talk to her - , live her life, and marry somebody else. But even watching that, being near her, even if only from a distance, would be better than leaving forever.

* * *

I watched the rest of the memory intently, hoping against hope that my epiphany hadn't been too late, that he wasn't planning on telling her today, and I breathed a sigh of relief when she finally said her goodbyes.

As I stood there on the street corner, waiting for her so that I could take her back, and then watching her come into view, knowing this would be the last time she'd ever see me, my heart was breaking. It wouldn't matter as much to her - she was too smart to do something as stupid as fall for me like I had for her - but it mattered to me.

I tried to be normal, joking, when I greeted her, but my "There you are. I though I was going to have to come in to get you!", meant to be teasing, sounded odd and strangled to my own ears.

* * *

At first, I tried to give her privacy, but then I realized it was hopeless anyways, so I had no reason not to watch Bella, silently and unnoticed, even if it did feel slightly like torturing myself.

Her behavior that night, though, put some of this out of my mind. She was acting very strangely indeed. Just sitting there, appearing to be deep in thought. Abruptly, her expression turned angry, but soon it was replaced by a look of fierce determination. At that point, I decided to stop torturing myself, and left her in peace once more.

* * *

The next morning, I tried to stay away again - knowing it would be easier for me if I could, and wanting to let Bella live her life in peace - but I was too morbidly curios as to what she would do when I didn't show up.

She spent most of the morning in her bedroom, seemingly anxious about something, and I could see that she was muttering to herself, but never loud enough for me to make out. As ten o'clock came and went, I could see her getting worried, but when she started searching the house, calling for me in whispers, I didn't trust myself to be strong enough to ignore her, and I had to leave again.

* * *

I told myself that she would get over it quickly, move on. After all, she hadn't cared more about me than as a friend, someone she felt sorry for and wanted to help. I kept telling myself this, but as Sunday came, and, having the house to herself, she called for me again, not keeping her voice down this time, "EDWARD!! Edward, you're freaking me out!!", I realized I would have to explain things to her.

But I also knew the I couldn't tell her the truth - it would hurt both of us too much.

So I settled into my visible form, in her room, standing staring at her wall, and working up my nerve, rehearsing my part. I would have to play the bad guy, and it would involve hurting her more than I could bear to.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the door open, and then her footsteps freeze in shock. I was just about to turn around, when a blast of angry sound was thrown at me. "What the **hell**, Edward Masen? Where have you been?" I barely had time to process this before she changed her tone so abruptly, it made me head spin.

"I'm sorry, I mean, Edward, I was just so worried, I had no idea where you'd gone, and Edward, I'm sorry I'm so bad at this! But I will try harder! Just bring me back, and I promise, I'll do better!"

That stopped me short. Somehow, she seemed to think this was her fault. I couldn't bear her thinking that, blaming everything I'd done on herself, and I just barely managed to keep my face cold and expressionless as I turned to her. "You're not going back."

"But Edward, I have to! I have to save you!" she insisted.

"No. We were wrong, that's not. . . it's something else. We had the wrong plan." I was improvising now, praying she would leave it at that so that I wouldn't have to hurt her more than I already had with my cold, distant manner.

"Then tell me the right plan Edward! What can I do I need to-"

"No." I interrupted. This was what I was dreading, but I had to get it over with. "You can't help."

She was angry now. "Edward, I know I messed up, but I can fix this! I'm supposed to be the one figuring this out! You said I was meant to help you, you're not supposed to be figuring this out, I am! It's my job!"

While we'd been talking - if you could call it that - I'd made my way over to the door, making ready for a quick escape. Not seeing her face, as I had my back to her, also helped me to keep in my role, but now I had to turn to deliver my last, final line. "It's MY LIFE!" I roared at her, summoning all the anger I felt towards myself and throwing it outwards, and then turned abruptly, not being able to bear seeing her face.

I could hear her behind me, so I let my image dissolve away, but was still able to see her as she stood in the hall, looking around her in vain. I made myslef leave, but not before the tears started running down her cheeks.

* * *

**AN: There we have it! Now you all know what was going on in Casper's head during that/those scenes. And yes, for those of you who have read it, this chapter is heavily influenced by the hospital scene in MS. :D**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed, and, if you want another super-quick update like these last few, you know how to proceed. (hint, hint) Rrrrrrrreview! :D**

**Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers, as always,**

**SkySong**


	11. Chapter 11

**Dislcaimer: You know the drill. I don't own Twilight, end of story. :)**

**AN: Soooooooo here we go! Chapter eleven! :O This story's going by so fast, I don't know if I want it to end yet! ah! Anywho, so, thank you to the lovely people who reviewed my last chapter!! I'm very glad that you enjoyed! A special shout out/thanks goes to my anonymous reviewers, because I like to reply to all my reviews, even if it's just to say "thanks", but I can't to my anonymous reviewers. :( So thank you guys!! :D**

**And now, here's chapter eleven. It's kind of short, and probably not terribly exciting, because I'm trying to match the chapters exactly to those from _Believer_, and these next couple are maybe more eventful from her point of view. Nevertheless, read on, and I do hope you enjoy!  
**

* * *

It was one of those moments that brought to mind the phrase "out of the frying pan and into the fire".

I'd drifted up here, up to somewhere above the roof, to escape the sight of Bella's broken face and wallow in some good old self-disgust and hatred. Because one truth was clear: I had done that to her.

But when I got up there, I was faced with something even more emotionally taxing than watching the consequences of my despicable actions. My mother.

Not that I don't, or didn't, at least, love my mother. But eternity has been hard for her, turning her from the strong, loving woman I knew, into someone almost unrecognizable in her grief. And now, to top it all off, she was angry. Actually, _livid_ would be a better word.

"Edward Masen," she growled at me "_what_ did you just do?"

Her anger, the venom in her words, took me aback. Ever since we'd died, my mother had been different, sad. But never angry at me. It was her unbearable sadness that had always made me avoid her, knowing that I was the cause. But, even though I was the cause, she had never showed it, never lashed out at me, until now, and I was, to say the least, puzzled at the cause, because I was getting nothing from her mind but waves of fury. "Mother, wha-"

She cut me off. "Don't you "what" me, Edward Masen. Don't think I haven't noticed what you were doing, even if you don't share things with your dear old mum anymore. You found someone who could help us!! You were so close!" she was close to tears now, and I realized exactly what it was about. "And then, today, what was that about? You throw it all away. I knew it was too good to be true. But why, Edward?" she implored. "Why?"

I couldn't face her. When I'd realized what I'd been going to do, I'd been only thinking of the consequences for myself and Bella, but now I was being reminded forcefully of the main reason I had approached Bella in the first place, and the person -at least in her opinion - who would be most affected by my most recent decision. I had no idea how to answer to that, but I finally settled on giving her the answer to the last question she had asked. "I -you were you right."

She puzzled this over for a moment, uncomprehending, before she finally grasped the meaning of my words, and I could hear the shock, disgust, and disbelief so clearly in her thoughts. "you're in love with her?" she sputtered.

I nodded mutely.

Beyond her anger, there was confusion and disbelief. _But it never mattered to him! Not in his whole life, never did he really look at a girl! Love never mattered to him, why now?"_

I answered her unspoken question. "No, it didn't. . ." I confirmed, and she just looked at me. "And then I saw her face," I stated simply. And it was true. That was how it had all started, when everything changed "and everything changed."

I couldn't stand sticking around to see whatever she would come out with next, to hear her words that would just add insult to injury, so I turned and fled.

* * *

I flew over the roofs of houses, not really realizing where I was going until I got there.

And when I did, I realized it was pretty perfect. No one, human or spirit, hardly ever came to this deserted little plot of ground, dotted with grey stones, and separated from the neighboring houses by a small forest. They had no reason to, and that made the little graveyard where my earthly body lay the perfect place for me to be alone, at last, in my misery.

But, as fate would have it, I didn't get to be alone for long. I'd been there only minutes when I heard the footsteps approaching. The fact that they weren't accompanied by any thoughts was enough to let me know who it was without looking up. Of course it would be her.

As soon as I realized, of course, I should have left, to spare myself. But really, what was the point anymore? I was stuck here for ever anyways, why not allow myself the tiny happiness of at least seeing my love, even if I could never have her, while I was still able?

Of course, she made her way to the little area of the graveyard dominated by the Masens. But, surprisingly, she stopped at my mothers grave. It was only then that I noticed the flowers in her arms. She carefully removed the wrappings from a bouquet of pure white lilies, stuffing it into her bag before placing them on the grass with a whispered dedication that I just barely made out. "These are from Edward, I know he's always wanted to give them to you."

Her selflessness, I realized, her generosity, would never cease to amaze me. How had I ever fallen for someone so good, the exact opposite of what I was?

But now she was moving to the headstone beside my mother's, the one that bore my name. This time, the flowers she laid there were yellow roses, and she said nothing as she set them down, stood up again, and left.

I stared at her retreating back for a moment until the sound of paper ruffled by wind made me look down. There, tucked under the green stems, was a single sheet of paper bearing a few scant lines of writing in Bella's own messy hand.

_Edward,_

_I'm sorry. So sorry. I messed up, I know, but I want to help you. Please, please, let me make it right. I want to help you, but I can't if you won't let me._

_Please._

_Bella._

It probably wasn't their intention, but the words made me suddenly angry. Not at her, never at her. At myself. How had I let her think that this was all her fault? It was inexcusable.

* * *

**AN: Well, there you go. :) We get to see a little bit more of Elisabeth, and Edward gets to be really angsty. :D Haha, I love how somebody called Edward a "monumental Idiot" I think it was, in one of their reviews. :) You see more of that in this chapter, because, yes, he can be rather thick about some things. :) But we still love him! **

**And, we see the story title! I was kicking myself right after I posted last chapter, because I'd forgotten that I was supposed to work the title in there, but I think I did it OK in this one. I hope so, anyways. . :S  
**

**Now, here's the deal: I love my reviewers who do review, but I'd love it if more of my readers who are enjoying this story would please drop me a line to tell me what they think! It makes my day when you do :D**

**And, as a bit of motivation:**

**I'm going to be at a cottage sans internet this weekend, so I won't be able to update. Now, I think I may be able to get chapter twelve written before I leave, because it's another short one. :) So, if I am motivated to *cough*review*cough*, it may be up by tomorrow night. If not, i'll be able to get some writing done in the car, so I'll definitely have it ready for Sunday night. If I'm motivated to, hint, hint. :D (yes, I'm evil, I know it :D)**

**but, yet again, thank you to those beautiful people who do review! I love you guys!**

**buh-bye for now,**

**SkySong :)  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

**AN: So, I gave you guys an assignment (review), and I must say, you responded magnificently. :D Thank you all, my lovely reviewers! You have helped this story to, in eleven chapters, get more reviews than_ I'll Make a Believer out of You_ did in seventeen! Even more exciting, I only need one more review to break the one hundred mark!! :D So, because of that fantastic response, here's chapter twelve. :D I thought I wasn't going to have enough to say in this chapter, but, as always, Edward surprised me by having much more going through his head than I thought he would. :D But, even so, this one is a little short, I'm sorry. Now, read on!**

* * *

I spent the rest of that day in the cemetery, going in circles. (figuratively, of course.)

I was now seeing better the consequences of my decision for everybody, not just me, but I still couldn't see a solution, a way to make things better.

The obvious avenue that would make my mother happy, at least, would be to make up with Bella, and continue on a path that would fulfill the conditions that would allow me to go on, allow both of us to escape this half-life we were trapped in.

But what was I supposed to say to Bella? "I'm sorry, but we were wrong originally, and it turns out I've fallen in love with you, so if you would be so kind as to return the sentiment and tell my past self that, I'll be on my way"? No, obviously, fulfilling the conditions for my release from earth was out.

So, I couldn't see a way to make my mother happy, but I had more pressing concerns.

I was more or less resigned to the fact that I was going to be miserable for the rest of my existence, along with my mother, but now I had somewhat snapped out of my self-indulgent fog of the last few days, and was trying desperately to think of a possible solution to make Bella happy.

Going and talking to her was out, because what could I say?

That we were wrong, but I couldn't tell her the right plan? No, I knew her, and she would work tirelessly until she figured it out.

That I'd fallen in love with her? Obviously not. It would just cause her unnecessary grief.

No, better to let her think I was angry with her, as much as that pained me. She would get over it in time, and be able to lead a happy life again. Which was just the way it should be. I was past saving now, but last least she could be happy.

So I'd made my decision, figured out a course of action(which was, basically, do nothing). But I still wasn't happy with it. I felt like I owed Bella more. And, as much as I might try and trick myself, I really didn't relish the thought of being trapped here for all of eternity, pining for a lost love. It sounds romantic in the context of a novel, but in real life - as I was realizing after only a few days - it sucked.

But, I was still unable to come up with a better solution, so I returned to the house. I still wasn't ready to face my mother, but I realized how little time I might have left to even see Bella, because who knew when she would move away.

* * *

When I reached the house, darkness had already fallen, and as I drifted into Bella's room, luckily not having encountered my mother yet, she was already sleeping.

It was an uneasy sleep, and even though I was there the whole night, she never quieted, tossing, turning, and muttering in her sleep until morning. I wondered what was bothering her, and wished I could comfort her.

When she woke, looking distinctly unrested, her parents were already gone.

I left her alone for a brief time, because I am not a totally unscrupulous stalker, and when I returned, she was rummaging in her desk drawers for something. I was happy that she seemed to be moving on, concentrating on something else, until I realized what she held in her hands.

As I drifted near the ceiling of the piano room, watching her thumb through my worn diaries, I figured she was again trying to see what she'd gotten wrong, figure out another plan.

But, as she sat there, staring at a certain page in one of the journals, with the old photo clutched in her other hand, I could've sworn I saw moisture in her eyes, and wondered if perhaps I was wrong.

But I didn't have time to puzzle over that very long, as right at that moment, she started to disappear. I started as a gradual blurring of her image, then a rapid fading, and by the time I had my wits about me enough to do something, she was gone.

* * *

I was in a near panic for a moment, not knowing where she'd gone, but also having a small suspicion of where it might be, but not one that was at all comforting.

My fears were confirmed a moment later, when I felt the familiar sensation of a new memory washing over me.

I was thrilled to see her, naturally, as she hadn't been back for a week, and I'd wondered if she had left.

I watched him greet her enthusiastically, and then, soon after they had sat down in the little wicker swing on the porch, I heard in the memory-thoughts what I had been dreading. Unrestrained by any of the fears that held me back, my past self had made his decision. He was going to tell her.

I could barely bear to watch the destruction of all my careful plans, but yet I was morbidly curios to see how he would say the words that I had wanted to say for so long. Regardless, I couldn't have stopped it if I'd wanted to.

"Isabella," he started, making sure to catch and hold her gaze before continuing. "Before this summer, I've never known anyone who I wanted to spend time with in a way other than my mother and father. I've never really even had a friend, someone my own age, that I've wanted to spend more time with than just the boys playing baseball, football. But this summer, Isabella. I feel like I could spend hours just talking to you. Before this summer, my biggest wish was to join the war. I love my mother and father, Isabella, but I was willing to leave them behind for that. But this summer, I found that there was maybe something I wouldn't sacrifice for that." he was building up to it, and she could tell, I was sure, but her face was unreadable. "Isabella, I love you." her face barely changed after his pronouncement, but he seemed to see something in it, because he leaned towards her. "May I?"

"yes," she breathed, and my heart leapt before I savagely beat it down. Because of course she couldn't actually mean it, there had to be some explanation, there was no way -

with my obsessing over her acceptance, I'd missed the memory kiss, but was pulled back by Bella's next words, confirming my worst fears and dearest hopes. "I love you."

* * *

**AN: And there we have it!! Casper finally knows the truth. But what does he think of it? You'll have to wait for next chapter to find out!! mwa ha ha. :D **

**I must say, I love some of his lines in this chapter. :) But I'm worried the ending maybe fell a little flat, I hope it didn't. :P**

** As I said, you can expect that one sunday night, because I won't have internet all weekend. Which means I probably won't see a lot of your reviews until sunday, but I will be looking forward to lots in my inbox (hint, hint) when I get back ;). And now, I must say again a huge thank you to all of my last chapter reviewers!! You make my day!! **

**Have an excellent weekend!**

**-SkySong :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Twilight is (still) not mine.**

**AN: I'm baaack! So, I hope you all had an excellent weekend. :D I had a pretty great time at my cottage, even though it wasn't the best weather, it was nice to see the family. :) And thanks to everyone who wished me a good time at the cottage. :) And, thanks to all of my reviewers!!! I now have over a hundred reviews, all thanks to you guys!! :D You're fantastic, that's all I can say. Oh, wait, I can also say this: Here's chapter thirteen!! Read on!**

* * *

So it was true. She did. The half-fearful hopes that had been simmering in the back of my mind for days had been proved right. And I was ecstatic.

For a moment, I forgot everything that I'd known before - how this could never work, obviously - and was lost in a dizzy spin of fantasies. For a moment, completely blocking out my rational mind, I envisioned a future where I would stay in the earth, and I could still be with Bella, of course she wouldn't mind that I was a ghost.

My 1918 double was, surprisingly, not as blown away as I was. It made sense, really, if I looked at it clinically. I'd been a bit more cocky then, and also had no reason, like I did now, to think that she wouldn't love me. So when it was confirmed, I was happy, certainly, but not terribly surprised.

I, however, was still blown away. How could she ever have fallen in love with someone like me? And then the horrible reality came crashing down on me. She didn't love me. She loved him. It made sense. We weren't the same person, not really, and he, uncomplicated, cheerful, and human, was the one she loved.

A moment ago, before I'd realized this, and after she'd made her confession, I would have thrilled at the fact that he was leaning in again, because this time I would be able to savour it, knowing it was real, she loved us. But now, I tried to push the image out of my mind, because it wasn't me, wasn't me she loved. It was him. Not me, him.

I tried to push the image away, but was startled when it actually worked, fading rapidly from my view, until it was gone altogether, and I couldn't get it back.

But I didn't have long to puzzle over this, because right then I realized exactly what happens when a spirit is set free. All my death, I'd felt trapped, like I was in a giant room, with no way to get out. I had imagined that, when it happened, when I was set free, it would be as if a door would appear, and I would finally be able to pass through.

The reality wasn't like that at all. It was as if giant walls had disappeared, but they hadn't only been containing me, they had been keeping at bay a powerful force, a vacuum, almost, powerfully pulling at me, each second that I stayed on earth a colossal effort.

And I would have to keep fighting for a moment, because just then I heard a thud in the room at the end of the hall, signifying that Bella was back. And even though she didn't love me, she still deserved an apology, and a word of thanks, for, even though I might not want to go, she had given me my freedom.

* * *

As soon as I appeared in Bella's room, it was clear I was just about the last thing she'd been expecting to see. However, I didn't have time right then to answer the question of _why?_, because, as soon as she saw me, she started - of all things - apologizing.

"Edward, I'm so sorry, I-" She was _sorry_? I have to admit, I was a little bit angry, and I hoped it didn't frighten her. What had I done to this girl to make her think that she _still_ had something to be sorry for?

I asked her. "What could you possibly have to be sorry for, Bella?"

She seemed puzzled by my question, as if the answer should have been obvious. "I -I messed up, Edward, again! I know you gave up on me, but I still wanted to help you, and I got a chance, and I screwed it up, and I'm so sorry, and I promise next time I'll be better and please, just give me another chance." She actually believed that this was her fault? _Still_? That I was ignoring her because I thought she'd screwed up? I still didn't get her logic, but I couldn't doubt the fact that she actually believed what she was saying, because of the moisture in her eyes, dangerously close to spilling over. There were many things that Bella was good at, but acting wasn't really one of them.

"I don't. . . understand, Isabella. Another chance at what? What do you have to be sorry for? You did nothing wrong. You did everything right." And she had. Perfectly. So perfectly, she'd foiled my careful plans, and this would be the last time she saw me.

"Another chance at saving you!!" she exclaimed, as if this should be very, very obvious. "At getting you to war, away from Chicago! At helping you!" So she was still onto that. Then. . . had she thought that, by falling in love with him, she was ruining her chances of going to war? It made sense, I guessed. But I'd told her, that wasn't the right plan!

"I told you, Bella, that's not right. We got it wrong. The plan was wrong. That wasn't what I needed."

Suddenly, it was her turn to be angry, although why, I couldn't fathom. "Edward, I know what you said. But I also know you were lying!! You only said that because I was screwing up so much, and you wanted to be rid of me!" _That_ was how she had construed my earlier words? How could she ever think that_ I_ wanted to be rid of _her_?

If she hadn't realized this yet, though, that getting rid of her was the last thing I wanted, that it was in fact, the opposite, I didn't want to alert her to it. It would surely only cost her unnecessary grief. No doubt her habit of blaming everything upon herself would make her believe that she was somehow to be blamed for my unrequited love, or something else equally ridiculous. So I simply answered, "No."

"No what?" she shot back, still somewhat on the defensive. "No, you weren't lying?"

"No, I didn't say that because you were screwing up. You were doing beautifully, Bella." this, at least, was completely true. She had been doing wonderfully, even if we were operating with the wrong idea. "But we _did_ get the plan wrong."

"We did? But we were so sure . . . that you were supposed to survive!" she protested.

I shook my head, and then turned to look out the window. I was afraid that if I looked at her face any longer, I wouldn't be able to keep the confession from bubbling out of me. I answered her question. "But I wasn't. I'm still supposed to die, still am going to die in. . ." I shot a glance at the calendar on her wall to confirm the timing. It was the second last week of August now, " little over a month. But there was something that I was supposed to do before I died."

"Then let me help you do it!" she insisted.

How eager she was, how enthusiastic and willing to help. This would be one of the things I would miss most. "Don't you see, Bella? You already have."

"What? No, I haven't done anything!"

"You have." I assured her. How could she still not understand? "Think. You heard what it was less than an hour ago." Her expression showed no flash of comprehension, so I was forced to continue. "Before I met you, I never knew anyone who I cared for in a different way than my mother and father. Never even really someone unrelated to me whom I cared for in a platonic sense. And, even though I loved my parents, there were things I was willing to give them up for. I never had anyone I wouldn't give up for those things. Never, Isabella, did I ever experience love. Not even for a day, a week. And then I met you. That's what I was missing, why I couldn't cross over. I had never found love, in any way. But you helped me find it. And now, I can leave."

Her eyes widened, her face registering only shock. "You can leave?" She repeated, as if the words seemed foreign to her.

"Yes. I knew it the minute you told me. I just thought I should come back and say goodbye, explain things. Goodbye, Isabella. And, from the bottom of my heart, thank you." I had done it, had made it through that whole conversation without letting on that it wasn't just him, Edward, it was me too.

I finally stopped fighting, allowing the unbeatable force that had been pulling at me the entire time to take me. To my surprise, though, it didn't happen all at once, it was a gradual drifting, and erasing from this earth. And, as I slowly faded from the place that, in the past weeks, I had realized I didn't want to leave, I spoke the words I'd been so wanting to say. Surely, I was too far gone for her to hear my whispered "I love you.", but it was probably better that way.

* * *

**AN: Well, there you go. Just for a change, we get some Edward being really angsty. Oh wait, what? That's not a change, you say? That's actually been what it was for the past, like, four chapters? Sorry. :) It changes soon, I promise. I'm working on fourteen right now, and I must say, I quite like that one, and I hope you guys will too. :D So now, you know what to do: Rrrrrrrrrrrreview! :D **

**Thanks for reading! (and reviewing, hint, hint)**

**-SkySong**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: For the last time, I do not own Twilight. :)**

**AN: Chapter fourteen! Here it is! I must say, I quite enjoy this one, and I'll talk more about it later. The one thing I will say is that, although I've been trying to keep the timeframes the same between the chapters of "Believer" and this one, I decided to split the events that take palce during the BPOV chapter 14 into two chapters, as much more happens to Edward during this time than Bella. :D**

**Now, before I let you read, I just have a bit more I want to say, so PLEASE READ:**

**First is, as always, a giant thank you to my reviewers! But, I have noticed that the site is having some review problems, I think. I've recieved email notifications for several reviews that do not appear on the site, and that the site will not allow me to reply to, but that are included in the count of the number of reviews I've recieved. Curious. Anywho, I'd like to thank those reviewers, as I can't thank them personally, and here I will answer queries raised in those reviews:**

**sanders61584: "any ideas for your next story?" I'm not sure what exactly is up next, but I have a few things that I want to work on. I'm thinking of a sequel, possibly two, for this story, I'd like to work on "When you get to keep an angel with you", my Rosalie/Emmett story some more, and I also have an idea for a Carlisle/Esme AH in the back of my mind. So we'll see!**

**And, Klutzy-Side-of-Alice: well, I think the answer to your question is in the chapter. :) (yes, that was what I was already planning) :)**

**And, at everyone who reviewed, wether the site recognized it or not, a giant thank you!**

**And NOW, I'll let you read chapter 14. :)**

* * *

This first thing I noticed as I left the big white house, and started floating up, up, up, was that I wasn't alone. The first other person I saw was, naturally, my mother, but I don't think she saw me. While I was drifting along, pulled by the inexorable force, she was veritably shooting upwards, an exalted smile on her face. Finally, she was free. Free, and eager to leave this earth. Whereas for me, the beginning of my freedom was feeling more like a prison sentence.

It was about then, when the houses and even cities of the earth were only tiny dots below me, that I noticed the others. They had the same foggy, transparent quality to them as my mother and I, but that was seemingly the only thing they shared with each other, or us. They were as varied as people were on earth, even more so, because of the odd waylaid spirit like my mother and I. Even in my current mood, my natural curiosity got the better of me, and while one part of my mind was still back in that little yellow room with the only girl I would ever love, another part was looking around me, and trying to see how many different decades of clothing I could see. I swear I saw someone in full shakespearean garb, neck ruff included.

I've read different descriptions of what it's supposedly like when one "goes on", and I'd just assumed that I would continue ascending until I got somewhere. The pearly gates? But only minutes after I'd left earth, everything just disappeared. Light, sound, colour, everything. I was just alone in the blackness. But despite this, it didn't really feel as alone, as panic inducing as one might imagine. Simply a sense of calm settled over me, and although I remembered that there was something, something important I should be remembering, something upsetting, something I'd lost, I couldn't quite grasp it. I could remember that I'd spent a long time on earth after my death, but that interim time was fuzzy. Was this, then, on?

Then, suddenly, after an interminable period of waiting, out of the seemingly endless darkness, a voice boomed. "NEXT!"

With that, as abruptly as the darkness had appeared to envelop me, it disappeared. Instead, I was now standing in a circular room. It was what would be a fairly standard, normal office, if not for a few things. First, the giant picture windows on either side of me showed not a cityscape, but a magnificent panorama of clouds. Secondly, the man sitting behind the polished mahogany desk, clad in a long, flowing white robe, had large feathery swan's wings sprouting out of his back. Actually, the longer I was there, the more I realized that it was not commonplace in the least. Apart from the windows, the walls were covered in doors, six in all, each marked with a glowing golden number, from one to six. Then, the whole room was white, but rather than a stark, industrial white, it was soft, and seemed to glow, sparkle, and morph in front of my eyes. As I was watching, doors three through six changed back and forth from seemingly solid wood to glass, or simply air. Before my eyes, a door sized window appeared where door number four had been. Behind it, I could see what appeared to be some sort of garden, in which a woman and man, also clad in the white robes and sporting wings where standing. They turned then, and I realized with a shock that they bore the faces of my parents.

Just then, the man at the desk interrupted my ogling. He was consulting an enormous roll of parchement in front of him, and read off of it "Edward Anthony Masen?"

I nodded. As soon as I'd arrivied here, everything had come back to me, and most of my mind was still in the white house.

"Only son of Edward and Elisabeth Masen?" he questioned again.

"Yes."

He nodded, then consulted his list again. "Door seven," he read in a bored face.

What? No, I needed door four, if I needed anything! That's where my parents were. Anyways, "There isn't even a door seven!" I exclaimed.

He sighed. "Yes, there is. Behind you." He motioned for me to turn around, and I did. There, exactly opposite the desk, was another door. It was set apart from the others, but otherwise looked the same, right down to the golden "7" on the door.

"No, you don't understand," I protested. "I can't go there, my parents, there must be some kind of mistake, but they're behind door four!"

"I'm sorry," he shook his head, and consulted the list again. "It says here door seven. I obey the list. NE-"

Then a horrible thought occured to me. "It's not- I'm not- I can't go to h- What did I do?"

Though I'd barely been able to get a coherent sentance out, he seemed to understand me. "First of all, calm down." He let out an exasperated sigh. "No, it's not Hell. Actually, we don't really like to use that term. As you can see, there are several options, once one leaves the living world. Yes, some of them are disciplinary, correctional, or, perhaps, a chance for one to redeem onesself. That would be doors one, two and seven." As he said this, I realized that those were the doors that stayed solid, and did not allow a glimpse of what was inside.

But I wasn't as much concerned with that, as the fact that my door, door seven had been listed as disciplinary. "But-"

He held up a hand. "Wait, let me finish." He was being very patient with me, but I could tell it was costing him. "The other doors," he continued, "doors three through six, are what you would consider the traditional Heaven. There are four options, because Heaven is not the same for everyone. Sometimes one is given an option, or they are assigned to a specific door. It all depends." He could tell I was about to interrupt again, as, although interesting, this still didn't concern me. "let me finish. So, to reward a life well lived, yes, a person will be granted admission to one of doors three though six. But, sometimes, a person, we feel, deserves rewarding beyond that, for some exceptional good deed, or something similar. And that," he pointed at me, "is why you have been assigned to door seven."

This wasn't adding up. "But you said door seven was also correctional"

He sighed, clearly wishing I would just leave. "It can be. It can be many things, depending on one's assignment there. Yours is not a punishment. Well, it's not meant to be, at least. There have been. . ." he trailed off, shaking his head as if to dispel an unpleasant memory. "but never mind. Yours is not a punishment."

I mulled this over. "Assignment. . . Where exactly am I going? What's behind door seven?"

He smiled. "Earth." he replied simply.

"Earth? When?" An idea, a hope, was forming in my mind, and I desperately tried to beat it back.

"For you, present day. That is, the nineteenth day of the month of August, two thousand and four years after the time of Jesus Christ."

I still tried to be distanced, clinical, as I posed my next question. I couldn't allow myself to think of this hope brewing in my mind. " Alright. You said what it is depends on our assignment there. What's my assignment?"

He consulted his list again. "Isabella Marie Swan."

Isabella Swan. "Bella? My assignment is Bella?"

"Yes," he answered, seemingly pleased. "So that's a good thing. I'm glad. As I said, there have been some-"

"But wait," I just thought of a hitch in what he was staying, although I was somewhat afraid to voice it aloud. "You said that this was a reward for an exceptional good deed. What did I do to deserve this?"

"You? Oh, you didn't do anything. You're just lucky. No, Ms. Swan's good deed was. . ." he shuffled through more paper "ah, here it is. She "helped a wandering spirit to achieve piece." Well, that _is_ a big one. Definitely deserving. And, it seems here, that the reward that Ms. Swan would consider most valuable is a certain Edward Anthony Masen, aged seventeen, made fully human and mortal. And so," he pointed at me, "we deliver."

The reward that would be most valuable to her. So she did love me! She must! It was incredible, impossible, but she did! I had to confirm it, though. "Are you _sure_, sure that's what she wants?"

"For the last time, yes. We're not wrong. And now, could you please be on your way? Door seven. Everything's set for you. I don't really have all day, you know."

I was only too happy to comply. "All right."

And so I turned, grasping the handle of the door marked with the golden seven. I didn't know exactly what would greet me behind it, but knowing that Bella would fit into it somewhere was enough.

As I opened the door, the last thing I heard from that brilliant white room was the loud, gruff cry of "NEXT!" and I was gone.

* * *

**AN: Well, there it is. :) I hope you liked that one, I rather did. It's a little different, I think. I felt as if it had a bit of an HP-ish feel. But that's cool, because JKR is a genius, so I wouldn't be surprised if she inspired me a little. :) So, yes, also, obviously, this is all fiction, and not even really what I believe. But I do find different fictional descriptions of heaven are interesting to read, like "The Wish List"(excellent book, by the way.) and, of course, this description fit my story. :)**

**So, I hope you enjoyed, and, as always, please rrrrrrrrrrrrreview! :D**

**-SkySong**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Twilgiht's still not mine! Shocker, eh?**

**AN: Wow!! With all of your excellent reviews(fourteen after last chapter!!) I almost have no choice but to update every day!! I'm still having the problem of reviews not appearing on the site, but I emailed support, so hopefully it'll be rectified soon. Anyways, thank you very much to all the lovely people who reviewed!! (It'll take too long to list you all here, but you know who you are :D) I'm going to re-read them, and I'll try and answer any questions you asked me in a PM, cause I can't reply. Anywho, here's fifteen! This takes place still during the BPOV chapter 14, and it's maybe not as eventful as last chapter, but I think it's kind of fun. I love Emmett. :D (And I'm sure that the adoption/fostering process is not at all accurate, but it's fiction. :P) So, read on!**

* * *

I don't know what I was expecting as I stepped through Door Seven, but it wasn't what I found. I walked into another office, but this one was thoroughly commonplace. It had the look of a room that had had one occupant for a very long time, with the walls sporting photographs in cheap-looking frames, and children's drawings and paintings on faded construction paper. It had the look of an instution, and a not very well-off one at that, with the brown-flecked linoleum floor, beige painted walls, and cheap faux-wood desk. The only furnishings besides the desk were two metal chairs with vomit-coloured uphosltry.

The woman behind the desk, whose nameplate read "K. Webber, Social work" seemed to be expecting me. Seemed to know me, as well. "Hello, Edward, have a seat." She smiled.

"Hello," I answered somewhat apprehensively. Social work?

"No need to look so scared!" she laughed. "It's good news this time, I promise. It looks as if we've finally found a somewhat permanent foster-home for you. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen specifically requested a boy about your age. It seems they have a son around your age and always wanted another child but they had some problems. Anyways, they'd love to have you, and if the fit's right, they're interested in adopting. They're coming to pick you up in a few minutes. You've got all your things?"

I glanced down and saw that I seemed to have been carrying a faded red duffle bag, now sitting beside my chair. I wondered what it could contain, but nodded my head.

She smiled. "Great." Then, she leaned forward across the desk towards me, adopting a less formal manner. "Edward, I know this has been hard for you, losing everything and then going through so many foster families. But I really have hope for this one. I interviewed the Cullens myself, and they seem like excellent people. I know a lot of people think that fostering a teen requires little work and is a temporary commitment, but this family is ready to accept another family member. So, don't worry. I really have hopes for this one."

I took that as my cue to leave, and stood up, gathering my duffel bag. As I was about to turn the door handle, though, she spoke again. "Oh, and Edward? Good luck."

* * *

The office opened into a waiting room, with walls covered with doors like the one I'd just left, and showing the same signs of a low budget. There were several of the vomit-coloured chairs around the walls, some containing scruffy-lookings kids of various ages, and a pair with a nervous-looking young couple.

I took a seat in one of the chairs, then opened the duffel bag. Right on top, there was a folded peice of paper. In a plain, anonymous hand, it bore the following note.

_Edward,_

_Your parents died in the fire that destroyed your house on the outskirts of Chicago a year and a half ago. Since then, you've gone through five foster families, none of whom were very good to you. You have most of your parents' legacy in a savings account you cannot access until you're 18 or for school, but also a small spending account. All the paperwork is in this bag, along with some heirlooms inherited from your mother. She kept them in a safety deposit box. That's why they were not destroyed in the fire._

_You know your purose._

Well, that was short, and to the point. I decided not to dwell on the hows, but simply be glad how simple this would all be. Besides another interesting, and slightly unfortunate occurrence to occupy my mind. My special ability, my mind reading, was gone. It had, I realized, also been gone in the white room, but I'd been preoccupied. It was too bad. I would miss that extra sense. But it was an easy price to pay in exchange for what I was receiving.

After reading the note, which I stuffed into the pocket of my jeans, I looked through the rest of the bag. It mostly contained T-shirts and jeans of similar styles and thrifty makes. There was also an envelop containing personal documents; birth certificate, bank cards and papers. At the bottom of the bag, there was a small box made of rich, mahogany wood, inlaid with a lighter wood and mother of pearl. I knew it well. It was my mother's jewelry box, but how it had come to me was also a puzzle. Still, it was nice to have a piece of her.

I had just finished my examination of the bag and zipped it back up when another woman, a social worker, I guessed, stuck her head out of a door across the room. "Edward Masen?"

"Yes?"

"You can come in now."

I shouldered the duffel bag, and walked over to the room. This one, I could see through the door she held open, contained simply a few of the vomity chairs. Seated in one of these was a woman, who appeared to be in her early forties. She was well dressed, and nice-looking, with long, wavy caramel-coloured hair. Despite her youthful appearance, she had a distinctly maternal air. "I'll let you two introduce yourselves a bit," the social worker told us, "When you're ready, there's a bit of paperwork to get through, and then you can leave." With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

The woman in the chair rose. "Edward?" she greeted me, extending her hand. "I'm Esme. Hello."

I took her hand, shaking it awkwardly. This was all still so bizarre. As we sat down, Esme continued to speak. "I'm sorry Carlisle and Emmett couldn't come. Carlisle had to work and, well, Emmett likes his sleep" she laughed.

"That's alright." I replied. "Sorry, who are Carlisle and Emmett?" I was trying to be polite, friendly, but most of my mind was still on when I would see Bella.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Carlisle is my husband. He works at the hospital. And Emmett is our son. He goes to Mapledale, and it's all set, you'll be going there too."

Excellent. That was were Bella went. "Great."

She seemed somewhat surprised by my enthusiasm. "All right, well," she looked at her watch "Carlisle gets off at one, and Emmett should be up by now. Shall we go get rid of that paperwork and take you home?"

Home. I found I liked the sound of that. I hadn't had a home in so long. "Okay."

* * *

For some reason; maybe it was the anme, or being referred to as "son", I'm not entirely sure, but during the fifteen-minute ride to the Cullens house, I'd created a picture in my mind of the boy called Emmett, who, it seemed, was to be my brother: fair, skinny, more than a little nerdy, bad skin. Again, I'm not entirely sure what brought about this picture, but it certainly gave me a shock as Esme(she'd insisted I call her that after I'd addressed her as "Mrs. Cullen") unlocked the door. From the foyer, there was a clear view into the kitchen, and I saw a massive boy - man, really, with dark, curly hair sitting at the kitchen table, sleepily eating a bowl of some sort of cereal, and clad only in boxers.

"Emmett!" Esme remonstrated. "I told you I was bringing your brother home this morning!" brother? "The least you could've done is get _dressed."_

"You know," Emmett mused, pointing his spoon at his mother, "I've never got that expression. Because clearly, that's not the least I could do. _This_," he gestured towards his current state, "is the least I could do." He seemed to realize I was there then, as her turned towards me slightly. "Hey." he waved at me with a huge, muscled forearm.

Esme rolled her eyes, hitting her hand to her forehead with a _smack!_ sound. "Edward, would you like to go into the sitting room?" she motioned to a door. "I'll bring some tea."

As I headed towards the door, I could hear her talking to Emmett in the kitchen. "And _you_, get dressed- ugh, _shower_ - and get back down here."

"But I'm not-"

"_Now."_

* * *

"Sorry about that," Esme said as she came in a few minutes later, bearing a tray with teapot, cups, milk, sugar, and some little biscuits.

"Not at all." I smiled.

We talked for a few moments, getting to know each other. She told me she was very sorry about my parents, but that her and Carlisle would love to "not replace them, but stand-in for them, because they can't be here" and that "despite that show, Emmett actually is happy you're going to be a part of the family now" I liked how she said that. It was good to be a part of a family again. "but mornings aren't really his thing."

After about thirty minutes, Emmet came down again, this time fully clothed, and not much later, Carlisle - tall, blonde, and looking rather like a doctor out of a hospital drama -arrived. I was formally introduced to the rest of the family, and there was a little more awkward conversation, until Carlisle was called back to the hospital. A few minutes after that, Esme glanced at her watch. "Oh, shoot! I've got to get to work. Emmett, could you show Edward his room, help him get settled? Edward, will you be okay?" We both nodded yes, and then she left.

Emmett seemed to cheer considerably once his parents were gone. We were both standing there rather awkwardly, and he walked over to me, punching me lightly on the arm "So, little bro, you wanna go see your new digs?"

"okay?"

"C'mon," he said, already going out the door, and heading up the stairs. I grabbed my duffel and quickly followed him.

Once we got to the top floor, we passed a closed door "Mom and Dad's room", a very messy room with dark blue walls "my room,", and a room with wood-panneled walls, a dark, shiny wooden desk, and paintings on the walls, "dad's office", before reaching the last door. "And this," he paused for effect before throwing open the door, "is your room."

It was painted a dark green, with a dark wood bedstead, dresser, desk, and chair. The desk held what looked like a brand-new white laptop computer, and there was a flatscreen TV on the wall. Nice.

"It's pretty plain, sorry," Emmett gestured around the room. "But I got Dad to put in that TV - it's good, same as the one I've got, and I told them you'd need the laptop for," -he made quotation marks with his fingers - "school. Like I said, not much in the way of decor, but that's better. I promise."

"Why?"

He grinned. "Because you're not twelve."

I laughed. "No. Seventeen."

"Right. Well, d'you want to get your stuff put away?"

"sure."

As he helped me put my meagre supply of clothing in the dresser, he grimaced. "You like these?" he gestured at a t-shirt.

"Not really," I answered honestly. Although the modern style of dress for boys didn't exactly appeal to me, I was sure there was better than these, which were boring and obviously cheaply made. "This is what they gave me."

"Ah." As quickly as he'd led me upstairs, he spun, leaving my room and going into his, where he grabbed car keys from the mess of stuff on a dresser. "We'd better rectify that." As I just stood there, he motioned for me to hurry up. "Come on."

* * *

In less time than I would have thought possible, it seemed I was fully integrated with the Cullen household. After that first day, it felt like I'd known Emmett my whole life - like he really could be my real brother. He'd brought me to a giant mall, where he'd made sure I got "good" clothes, and not letting me pay - "Mom'll want to."

Esme and Carlisle were also very easy to get along with, and in just over a week, I felt almost at home. The only thing in the way of my happiness was that I'd yet to see Bella, but, being unable to drive, and, as I was supposed to have come from the other side of town, and to have been some what of a loner, I had no way to explain how I knew her, why I needed to see her. So that would have to wait.

* * *

**AN: Well, there you are, I hope you enjoyed! I think I like this one. I hope the ending's not rushed, but I was afraid it might be getting boring, and, frankly, I need to go to bed. :P Now, I don't know if I'll get another chapter up tomorrow. I may just want to relax. :D But soon, I promise. Now, if you enjoyed you know what to do! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrreview!**

**Thanks, as always,**

**SkySong :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I'm too tired to try and be witty. I don't own Twilight.**

**AN: Kay, I'm going to try and keep these ANs short, because I need to get to bed, but because I'm super nice (haha :P) I wanted to give you guys a chapter tonight. So, I had fun writing this one, and I hope you enjoy. Also, I'm thrilled with the lovely response to last chapter!! You guys are amazing, keep it up! (And, my review problem is fixed! yay!) Now read! :)  
**

* * *

As much fun as I was having getting to know my new "family", I still could not wait for school to start, so I was filled with joy, rather than annoyance, as on september first, I heard Esme calling to both me and Emmett from the hallway. "Boys! Up! " When Emmett groaned from the next room and muttered something unintelligible, Esme scolded "Emmett! you said you needed to be early!" But that, I was learning, was Emmett. He had the best plans, but never really thought of their reciprocations.

Like today. As he'd told me, today was not really a real day of school, it was when we picked up our timetables, and got a chance to "catch-up with", or, in my case, meet our classmates, as well as find out a bit about our classes, and sign-up for sports teams and clubs. Emmett wanted to go early, in order to show me around, but, of course, he neglected to factor in that this meant that he, the boy who was rarely awake before noon, had to get up at seven AM.

But, it seemed that he remembered why he needed to be up, because when I got downstairs about twenty minutes later, he was sitting at the island, albeit still looking quite sleepy. The reason for my unusual long delay was probably silly. I knew, I'd been told that it was me , me Bella loved, but I was still inclined to try and look my best, in case she needed some persuading. The thing that had been the hardest to get used to were the twenty-first century clothes, which I still found to be rather unattractive and garish, but at least I had a good supply due to my shopping trip with Emmett. In my spare moments for the past weeks, I'd been surreptitiously studying magazines and advertisements to try and put together an idea of what was considered appealing, and had, I hoped, managed to put together a fairly fashionable outfit that morning: snug, dark jeans, blue canvas high-topped sneakers - "converse" that seemed to be very in, and a simple, dark blue t-shirt, the sleeves of which I had rolled up. That seemed to be the "cooler" way to wear it.

I'd topped off my outfit with the one piece of twenty-first century clothing I really liked, if you could call it that - my big, dark "aviator" sunglasses. I realized I might have got something wrong, though, when I got downstairs, and Emmett grabbed them off my face. "Sunglasses inside, Edward? That's for hipsters and musicians. God, you're so weird sometimes."

He was teasing, but I was still somewhat affronted. "I play the piano." I protested.

He shook his head. "That doesn't count."

"fine." I grumbled, then went to grab some cereal, like he was already eating. As I did, I noticed that I wasn't the only one who had tried to look good today. hmmmm. He was wearing some sporty-looking shorts, an a white t-shirt that accentuated his football-player build quite flatteringly. And that had definitely been the intention. Also, he was wearing an almost choking amount of some kind of cologne. ugh. I considered commenting, but realized it would be so much sweeter once we got to school if I could figure out for whom he had made these extra efforts.

After what seemed like an age, we were both ready to go. I was so excited. Finally, I would see Bella. I grabbed my things, and we headed out to Emmett's car, a massive cherry-red Jeep. Why he needed something like that in the city, I was unsure, but it seemed like asking might be some sort of social faux-pas.

Anyways, we were soon situated in the Jeep, and he quickly drove the ten minutes to the school. Learning to drive was high on the list of twenty-first century things I needed to do.

* * *

If I hadn't already been to several crowded, public places with the Cullens, Mapledale High School would have been a total sensory overload. As it was, it was still pretty overwhelming.

The noise, for one thing. I was pretty sure that groups of adolescents from my time hadn't been nearly this loud. Talking, laughing, showing off, catcalling - everyone seemed to be making some sort of loud, obnoxious noise, and Emmett joined right in, exchanging shouted greetings with the many people he seemed to know as he almost dragged me through the throng of our classmates.

Then, there was the smell. Emmett definitely hadn't been alone in his overuse, abuse, almost, of cologne. Many of the boys seemed to have bathed in the stuff, and the girls weren't much better with their perfume. For a second I wondered if Bella was similarly abusive of scents. I hadn't had olfactory nerves as a ghost, and I fervently hoped that Bella wouldn't be like these girls.

And lastly, it was just the sights that overwhelmed. Garish clothing and even hairstyles in all colours imaginable, plus the bright posterboard signs over the various tables advertising clubs and sports teams.

I was hoping that we were heading to the less crowded periphery of the yard, but instead Emmett pulled me through the crowds, to a table marked "Varsity football tryouts" he ignored my feeble protests - we'd thrown around a ball a few times in the Cullen's large backyard, so he knew I was pretty good. I hoped that was all, but he insisted in bringing me around to almost all the sports tables. Not that I had an aversion to activity, but I didn't want to draw so much notice to myself. Emmett wouldn't even allow me to sign-up for the activities that I might've wanted to. He just snorted when I suggested a little variety might be nice, pointing to the sign for string ensemble tryouts.

Finally, we were finished all the signing-up, and Emmett led me off to the side of the yard, right beside one of the school buildings. There a group of his friends were waiting - all large, athletic types like he was. He introduced me around, and then we sort of stood off to the side, against the building. All the time, I'd been on the lookout for Bella, but hadn't spotted her yet.

Since we were outside, and I had a break to breathe, I decided to put back on my glasses. I liked how they let me see without feeling as seen. And it was outside, so although Emmet shot me a look, he didn't comment.

He did, however, soon after, start a running commentary on all the people around us. For the most part, I tuned him out, scanning the crowd for Bella, and nodding occasionally. Mostly his commentary was fairly long-winded, and sounded like a lot of gossip; "That's Jasper Hale, he mostly keeps to himself. Nobody knows much about him, but here are rumors about a brush with the law. . " I rolled my eyes as he continued with his monologue. The rest of his commentary followed along familiar lines, so I noticed when he broke the pattern. "and, that's Rosalie Hale" he mumbled. "Jasper's twin sister. She's a cheerleader."

His apparent lack of interest sparked my curiosity, momentarily drawing my mind away from Bella. I looked up to see where he was pointing, and saw a good-looking, statuesque blonde girl preening with a group of friends. From what I knew about Emmett so far, and from how he was looking at her, she seemed to be exactly his type. So that's who he'd been dressing up for. "Why don't you just ask her out?" I enquired innocently.

He immediately pulled his eyes away from her and tried to look casual. "Why should I ask her out?"

I simply rolled my eyes.

He ignored me for a few minutes, but he was soon back to his running commentary, and I was back to my Bella watching. In the end, though, his continuing monologue was actually useful. "Hey, who's that new girl with Stanley and Webber?" he mused, mostly to himself.

I followed his gaze, looking for a girl and two boys, but didn't see anyone. "Stanley and Webber?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry. Jessica Stanley and Angela Webber." he pointed.

following his gaze, I saw a group of three girls. One very short, with wildly curling dark hair, who was gesturing animatedly, and one tall, with light brown hair. The girl in the middle was small and slight with long brown hair, wearing dark clothes, and looking distinctly unhappy. Bella. I was almost sure.

At that moment, she looked up, and I could see her inhale sharply as she saw my face, and then close her eyes, shaking her head. I couldn't really blame her. I was supposed to be dead, after all.

I was almost positive that it was her, but I took off my glasses, just to be sure. Just then, she looked back at me, and I knew. I had a vague impression of Emmet calling after me as I strode away from him, but I didn't really care. She seemed to follow my lead, stumbling awkwardly towards me as I approached her, until she full out tripped and fell the last few feet between us, so I had to quickly reach out and catch her before she fell. Good thing I had such sharp reflexes.

I had planned a more elaborate greeting for our reunion, but "careful, there," was all that came out when I finally had her in my arms, and all I could do was grin stupidly at her.

She didn't seem to mind, though. "Edward?" she whispered, as if she still couldn't believe I was there.

"Isabella." I confirmed, relishing the sound of her name. The look of blissful happiness on her face was all the encouragement and permission I needed, so I didn't delay in picking her up off of her feet.

If I'd had any lingering doubts about whether or not I was really the one she wanted, they were all erased as her lips met mine.

* * *

**AN: Well, there you go! I hope the (I think) eagerly awaited reunion chapter didn't dissapoint. I'm worried that it's maybe disjointed or confusing in parts. . . But I had lots of fun imagining what it would be like for a boy from 1918 to be dropped into a modern highschool. I hope I did a good job. :) Now, I'm going out tomorrow night, so you'll have to wait a bit longer for the epilogue. But while you're waiting, please leave me a review! As I always, I love to hear from you! Now, rrrrrrrrreview! :D**

**-SkySong. :)  
**


	17. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: For the last time, I do not own these characters, alright? :P**

**AN: Ah! Here we are, the last chapter of And Then I saw her Face!! Are you guys as sad as I am to see the end of it? But I'm doing a sequel!! :D And I promise (I think) that it's actually got a plot, and it should be good, I hope. :D. So, here's the deal. It should be up before the weekend's up, so please check it out! Either add me to author alert (:P If you want to. :D You don't have to :P) or just check back to my profile, it should be up soon! And, then, of course, thank you all for all my reviews!! You really are quite excellent, please keep them coming!! :D and now, read!  
**

* * *

As we shut the doors of the giant red Jeep and started walking towards the house, I knew I was about to get it.

Emmett had held off on what I was sure was going to be relentless teasing and extensive questioning all day, as we'd always been with people - I'd stuck by Bella, and the girls she'd come with, Jessica and Angela had stuck with her (although Angela had tried, to no avail, to give us some space) and then Emmett had stuck with both of us. We'd both been very sparing in our explanations of how we knew each other, so, as I said, Emmett was very curious, and as we were now alone, having just dropped off Bella, whom I'd convinced Emmett to give ride to and from school, at her house, I knew I was about to get it. The majority of my mind, though, was still on Bella. We'd had almost no time to talk that day, and I still had so much to say to her.

I knew that would have to wait, though, as Esme opened the door, beaming at both of us. "Edward, Emmett! How was the first day?"

Emmett shrugged. "Fine." Then he turned to grin wickedly at me before addressing his mother again. Oh no. Not in front of Esme, please. "Edward's got a girlfriend."

Her face registered mild surprise. "Really?"

Uh-oh. "Yeah, well, we knew each other a while ago. . before my parents died. But we lost touch. . ."

Esme still seemed rather disbelieving. "And now she's your girlfriend?"

"Well, not exactly girlfriend . . ." more like other half, soulmate. The one who saved me.

Emmett looked at me. "Oh, I would say girlfriend. Or do you just-"

I whacked Emmett's shoulder. "Shut up!" Then I ran past him into the house, up the stairs.

"Oh man, Edward, you're going to get it now!"

"Boys!" came Esme's half-amused reprimand up the stairs.

* * *

After some bickering and teasing with Emmett that would probably have turned into a wrestling match if I'd let it (but then again, as I'd discovered, Emmett will turn anything into a wrestling match if you'll let him), and then some slightly awkward dinner conversation during which I sidestepped questions about my "girlfriend", I was now in my room, with nothing to do. I was all ready for school in the morning, and it was only about 8:30 PM.

I had to talk to Bella, there was no way around it. Sure, I would see her tomorrow, but if today was any indication, we wouldn't have much time to talk, and I needed to really talk to her. I had important things to say.

I briefly considered looking up her phone number on the internet (I was also, slowly, in my spare time, teaching myself how to use a computer), but quickly rejected the idea. I needed to really see her.

As luck would have it, I was actually familiar with the neighborhood around the Cullens house, and it wasn't that far from Bella's. There was a tree outside my window that would allow me to get in and out, and I knew Esme was trying to give me space as I adjusted, so she was unlikely to try and check on me. I put on some music, so it wouldn't be obvious from the lack of noise that I wasn't home, then climbed out my window.

I walked the familiar streets between my new and old houses, but thinking only of what lay ahead. It was only once I was actually across the street from Bella's house that I realized I hadn't actually made a plan as to how I was actually going to get in to see her. The old "throwing stones at the window" trick? Did that actually work in real life? Then I remembered, and noticed, the small apple tree by the porch, around the side of the house.

Several minutes, bruises, and small falls later, I was edging along the roof of the porch, level with the second story windows, with the one shuttered window as my target. I finally reached it, and although it took a bit of pulling, I got the shutters open and made a very un-graceful entrance into the room. I could only hope that Bella was the only one upstairs, if she even was.

My luck held as, several seconds later, I saw her face edging cautiously around the door, and mine, in response, broke into a wide grin. When she saw it was me, she hurled herself into the room, grabbing me in a bone-crushing hug. Well, that was a nice welcome.

But she quickly pulled away, and I was worried for a brief second, until I realized that it was so she could jump into the questions that she must have wanted to ask as much as I wanted to answer. "How did you get here?"

I grinned at her, for some reason wanting to play with her a bit before I gave her my answers "The window," I pointed over my shoulder.

She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was fighting a smile. She took my hand, pulling me off my seat on the windowsill (where I'd relocated to after my entrance had dumped me on the floor), and took a seat beside me on the window seat. How many times I'd wanted to join her in this exact spot while I couldn't, and had to content myself with watching her. I could have just sat there, looking at her, for an eternity, but, of course, she needed her answers.

"I figured that one out on my own," she continued, "But I meant here, in Chicago, in 2004! I thought you said you were going. . ." she gestured towards the ceiling "you know, up."

"Not "up"," I corrected her. "On. Of course, that usually does mean "up", I've found out. But apparently, sometimes, if a person has been really good, above and beyond the normal, they are given a reward beyond just that of passing through the pearly gates. So here I am."

"Really?" She asked? It looked like she was having trouble wrapping her head around the concept. I didn't blame her. "well, it makes sense. No one is more deserving of a reward than you. Although I hardly am one."

"Oh no," I corrected her again. Me, deserving of a reward? What had I ever done? "It's not me who gets the reward. Although you certainly are one. That was just a lucky coincidence for me. No, I believe your good deed, officially, is called "helping a wandering spirit to find peace." he smiled at me. "But I like to think of it as "you saved me.""

She seemed to like the sound of that. She leaned back, resting her head against my chest. "Really?" she asked, looking up at me.

"Most definitely," I replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead. How could she ever doubt it?

We spent a happy hour or so, almost, just sitting there, talking. We talked about our silly fears, how she had, somehow, come to the conclusion that it was only my past self who loved her, and not me, and how I had thought the opposite, that she loved only him. I also filled her in on my new life. It seemed perfect, just sitting there with her, but I knew I had to get back, so we said our goodnights, and I slipped back out the window.

* * *

The next morning, I still couldn't wait to get to Bella's house, even after having seen her less than twelve hours earlier. Emmett made a fuss about having to pick her up too, but I could tell he didn't really mind. actually, I had the feeling he was kind of impressed by my relationship with Bella. After all, he didn't really have any proof that I'd actually known her before yesterday. For all he knew, I'd just walked up to her and started kissing her.

When we got to the white house, I jumped out before Emmett could beep the horn, running up the steps to ring the doorbell. Following a faint pattering of footsteps on the stairs, the door was thrown open. "Isabella," I savored the sound of her full name before kissing her fingers in what seemed to be my signature gesture, then swiftly pecking her lips. "You look lovely today. Of course, you always do, but today you are especially lovely." And she did, rosy-cheeked and smiling.

She laughed, a tinkling of bells, and I led her over to the giant jeep, where Emmet was sitting, rolling his eyes. "You're looking pretty fine yourself," she told me, and so I took her in my arms again, kissing her right in front of my new "brother", who sat in the driver's seat, pretending to gag. Then he beeped the horn.

"C'mon, lovebirds!"

* * *

Once we got to the school, I walked her to her locker, kissing her once more before heading off to my locker, secure in the knowledge that I would see her second period. "See you in Trigonometry,"

She grabbed my hand, keeping me there as she leaned forward to whisper in my ear "Trig, Edward, call it Trig."

"Oh. I guess I've still got a bit to learn about the twenty-first century." I admitted.

"Mm-hm," She agreed, "but I can teach you" she offered, kissing my cheek. I liked the idea of that. "See you second period."

* * *

The morning went by quickly, and soon we were walking into the cafeteria together for lunch.

The only sour note in the day occurred when the tall, blonde girl that Emmett wouldn't admit he liked; Rosalie Hale, approached us as we entered the cafeteria. "You know," she said as she walked up to me, smiling sugary-sweet and completely fake "You have better options than her." She jabbed a finger at Bella.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean you don't need to resort to Isabella." She shot Bella a look that clearly showed her opinion of her. "For example, I'm free right now. And you're way out of her league."

"I think it's up to me to decide whose league I'm in, thanks," I corrected her. The nerve! "Besides," I added, making a show of taking in her appearance, from her overly made-up face to her long, blond hair. "I prefer brunettes." And I turned, kissing Bella on the mouth with my back to the atrocious Rosalie girl.

My first real day in a twentieth-century high-school had certainly been eventful, and showed me that I had a lot to learn. But I knew I had a willing teacher, so everything would be fine. Considerably more than fine, actually.

* * *

**AN: Well, there you go, I hope it didn't disappoint! We get some sort of extended verions of scenes from the BPOV epilogue, and lots of sweet E/B moments. :) I hope you enjoyed!! :D So, please, please, check out the sequel that should be up Sunday latest, and, in the meantime, rrrrrrrrreview!**

**Of course, thank you all for reading this story! I appreciate your support, I really do. :)**

**-Hannah  
**


	18. A note, please read! :D

**Hello there! Yes, this story is over. This is just an AN, sorry to disappoint. But I just wanted to bring to your attention the fact that the sequel, called **_**I Believe!** _**(Following the _I'm a Believer_ theme), is now up! :D So, I do hope you decide to read that, and that you enjoy. To convince you, here's a taster:**

_As I looked back, there was only one dark blot on the rich, shining tapestry that my life had become. The thorn in my side, the itchy tag on my t-shirt, the shadow hanging over my head, always ready and eager to slip out over the sun on what I'd thought was a perfect day. Rosalie Hale._

**Did that help convince you? Or put you off? :P**

**Anywho, please read. :) And, now here's where, for the last time on this story, I thank all of the lovely people who have read and reviewed this story!! Over 170 reviews, and it's all thanks to you guys. Thank you. :)**

**-SkySong**


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